Cold Hands and Bleeding Hearts
by Harmony Delaceur
Summary: Italy has seemed distant lately, and Germany wasn't sure why. Now, after a day that started so normal reveals a shocking truth, what can the two do now?
1. Chapter 1

With a disapproving hum, Germany stared down at the papers before him. To say that there were a lot of them was a huge understatement; the tall blond couldn't see even an inch of the smooth wood of his desk. He raked a hand over his carefully slicked back hair, allowing a few strands to come free from their hold and fall over his eyes.

Suddenly, a timid knock came at Germany's office door, and he sighed, looking up from his work to see Italy open the door and peek in, smiling that familiar smile when he saw Germany was indeed sitting at his desk. With another sigh, Germany sat down his pen, knowing he wouldn't get any work done if Italy was there.

"What is it, Italy?" Germany asked, getting to t the point quickly in the hopes of getting back to his works soon.

"Hey Germany?" The Italian's voice was strangely quiet and timid sounding. "I have a hypothetical question for you."

"What is it?"

"What if I had to go away? What would you do?"

The question was surprising, and Germany paused, thinking over the question in his mind, trying to make sense of it. However, he could make neither heads nor tails of the odd question, and he quickly decided that in order to answer the question truthfully, he would need to secure more information.

"Well…" Germany said, thinking still. "Where are you going and why are you leaving?"

The Italian gave a bit of a shrug. "If I… died, I guess."

At these words, Germany frowned slightly. His first instinct was to ask where Italy had gotten this sort of question from, but looking at the redhead in front of his desk, he could tell that Italy was actually looking for an answer to what he had just asked.

"If you were to die…" Germany thought about it for a moment. If his little Italian boyfriend were to pass away, how would he react? He decided to be as truthful as he could, see as he could tell that was what the Italian wanted. He looked down, unseeing, at the papers on his desk. "Honestly, I just might kill myself. But even if I were to do that, I wouldn't see you. I would burn…"

"You can't kill yourself!" Ital blurted out, looking shocked at what he had heard.

"Hm…" Germany hummed thoughtfully. He stood from his desk, making his way over to where his Italy was standing, still looking rather stunned.

"I want you to promise me, Ludwig." Italy's use of his human name surprised Germany. "Promise that if something were to happen to me, you would never take your own life!"

"No." Germany said clearly. If Italy were to die, he could make no promises about what he would or would not do.

"Please?"

"No."

"Please?" Italy began to cry.

"You can't make me."

"_Please?"_

"No, Italy!" Germany said firmly.

The redhead sat heavily in a nearby chair, arms wrapped around his middle tightly and leaned forward slightly, tears cascading in shimmering rivers on his cheek. Italy took a deep breath, which caught in his throat and made him cough.

Germany kneeled before the chair, tilting Italy's chin up so his honey brown eyes were forced to meet Germany's steely blue ones. To be frank, Italy's behavior was rather surprising, and Germany was beginning to wonder if someone had told Italy that he wouldn't care if the redhead were to die.

"Stop." Germany ordered. "You can't change my mind. Calm down and think for a moment. How would you feel, how would you act, if I were to die?"

Italy's answer, surprisingly, was instant. "I'd miss you, Luddy, with every bit of my heart. But, I think I'd want to live for you, even though I would never fall in love again." It sounded as though Italy had thought about this.

"Well, I wouldn't be able to take it." Germany said, heart squeezing as he thought back to the time when he had almost lost Italy.

"You're stronger then me, Luddy." Italy's voice had grown soft, quiet. "We all know it. If I could live on, I believe that you could, too."

"I could." Germany allowed, inclining his head slightly. "But that does not mean I will."

The tears began to fall down Italy's cheeks once again. "What would you gain by killing yourself?!" he cried, squeezing his eyes shut and leaning over again so that his bright red hair fell in front of his face, hiding it from view.

"As much as living without you."

Silence fell suddenly, both nations looking rather stunned at the words that came from Germany's mouth, words saturated with raw truth and painful honesty, words that seemed to weight the air in the room. Germany hadn't meant for such a deeply buried truth to come out, but, in regards to the situation, it slipped out.

It took Italy a moment before he said something else. "If you killed yourself, we'd never be together again." He said, reminding Germany that the little redhead's nation was highly religious. "Besides, even nations will someday come to an end. Nothing can last forever, right?"

"If you died, we still wouldn't." Germany pointed out logically. As nations, unless they were murdered, they had indefinite life spans.

With no answer from Italy, other then the sounds of his renewed crying, Germany gave a deep, bone weary sigh. He wasn't sure really what was going on, but Italy's behavior was honestly starting to frighten him a little.

"Italy… I…" Germany broke off, not really sure what he was trying to say, sighing again. "I just…" Germany gave up. Obviously whatever he had been trying to say wasn't going to come out.

However, this caught Italy's attention. He looked up at the vaguely agitated German, peering through his red bangs. "What is it Germany?"

"Nothing…" Germany muttered. "It doesn't matter. Not really."

"Tell me." Italy said, voice slightly whiney.

"No. Just forget it."

"Please?"

"No!" Germany said, almost yelling it and making the redhead jump in surprise. "I said forget it!"

Italy's honey eyes were instantly hidden again as the Italian returned his gaze to his lap, where tears made wet spots on the fabric, and his quiet sobs caused another cough, this one sounding rather painful, to escape. Overall, the redhead looked rather pathetic, and Germany sighed, kneeling in front of the Italian and pressing their foreheads together.

"You're here right now." Germany said, lowering his voice to be soothing, but with a strong inner agitation. He was now sure that that something was wrong. "You're here now, and you're not dead. That's what matters now. The thought of that changing is unbelievable. You can't just… I ca—" Germany made a sound of frustration and stood.

He turned away from Italy and heard a quiet whimper, almost as though the Italian had not meant to let the sound escape.

"I can't deal with this, Italy. This whole thing is… killing me." Again, Germany was surprised at the unexpected truth that escaped. "I feel like you're actually… going away."

There it was again. That feeling deep in the pit of his stomach that something was terribly wrong, something he didn't want to even think about, something that he prayed to any and every god was wrong. And it didn't help that Italy was not answering him. Every sniff, every sob sent a spike of fear through his heart.

Germany forced himself to take a deep breath, letting it out slowly, before crouching in front of Italy once again. "You're not leaving, right?"

It was clear that Italy was crying too hard to speak. Then the Italian choked for a second on his breath, making him cough continuously between breathless sobs. He still sat facing his lap, hiding his face from view.

"Please answer!" Germany said, an edge of panic to his voice now. "At least try to answer! That's an order!"

Finally, he got a response from Italy. But it was a simple shaking of his head, side to side, whipping his red locks around more then providing a sufficient answer to Germany's question. Italy took a deep breath, apparently trying to calm himself, and rubbed at his eyes roughly to dry the tears.

"Not so rough." Germany scolded halfheartedly, trapping Italy's small wrists in one hand and gently wiping at the tears with the other.

The action was futile though, for the Italian hid behind his hair again at Germany's touch, looking down so Germany could not see his lover's face. Between Italy's sobs and occasional coughs, Germany could hear the redhead mumbling quiet apologies.

"You don't have to apologize." Germany said in his best attempt to be gentle. You don't need to cry either. Please, stop crying."

"Yes… I do deserve to cry…" Italy's answer surprised Germany, who hadn't been expecting any kind of response from the obviously distraught Italian.

"Why's that?" Germany asked. Italy finally looked up again.

Germany's breath caught and his stomach dropped. Tears stained Italy's fair skinned cheeks, which appeared even paler in comparison to the shockingly red blood that was smeared across the bottom half of Italy's face, thickest and freshest at his lips. There was a twisted, bitter smile stretching those bloody lips.

"I'm so sorry…"

"Wha-What happened to you…?" Tears pricked at the corners of Germany's eyes, which were wide open in horror. "Where is the… the blood coming from?!"

Italy stood, turning away from Germany as he spoke. "My lungs, Luddy. My throat." Thin shoulders, encased in that familiar blue uniform, shook with withheld tears.

"You're bleeding on… the inside." Germany did something he had never done before. He buried his face in his hands, not wanting to see the blood, the tears, and the sad look in his lover's eyes. He only hid for a moment, just trying to bring back even a shred of his self control. Then he straightened, pulling out his phone to call an ambulance.

"No don't!" Germany was surprised when Italy lunged at him, stealing the phone and ending the call before the phone could even ring. "Germany, please don't! They… They can't help me."

"YOU'LL DIE IF I DON'T DO SOMETHING!" Germany yelled as the prickling in his eyes turned into a kind of burning sensation.

Italy shook his head slowly, firmly. "It'll stop soon enough. It always does." The sureness in Italy's voice was terrible.

"How do you know?" Germany's voice had dropped to a pained whisper, and a few tears trickled down his cheeks. "This time it could be different."

"I knew this was going to happen." Italy said, painfully honest.

"Then why haven't you done anything to prevent it?!" the words snapped out, even though Germany was not really angry.

"I can't." Italy was now only half a foot away from Germany, his bright honey eyes begging for Germany to understand. "I've been trying to stop it for the last decade. Trust me… If anything could be done, I would have done it."

Germany felt rather desperate. "There has to be something!" he said frantically. "Something, anything that should be able to help, right?!"

"Nothing, Ludwig!" Feliciano shouted before breaking down into tears again. A painful cough tore through his throat as he cried. "There is nothing to stop this."

"Then why does it keep happening?!" Germany demanded of the sobbing Italian, even though his gut told him he really didn't want to hear the answer to that question.

Italy looked to the side, avoiding Germany's eyes as he whispered; "Because it's just…" the Italian broke off as though the words were painful.

"Just what?"

Those honey eyes were filled with anguish as they met Germany's still rather teary blue ones, the Italian's bloody chin trembled. "Oh Germany, I really don't want to say it!"

"Answer my question, please!" Germany said, the words barking out in the commanders way that Italy had to obey. Germany needed to hear this from Italy's own mouth if he was going to be able to believe it.

"I'm going to die!" Italy whimpered. "It's going to get worse and worse, and I'm going to die!"


	2. Grief

Germany froze, eyes impossibly wide as Italy wept before him. After a moment, he realized that he was holding his breath, and sucked in a deep, shuddering breath as those terrible words echoed in his head. Italy was going to…

"How did this happen?" Germany asked in a quiet voice, clenching his hands into fists at his side in an attempt to stop their trembling.

"I don't know…" Italy whimpered. "Luck?" he offered, shrugging his shoulders and covers his mouth to catch a cough.

"Luck? LUCK?!" Germany shouted, irrationally angry, making Italy flinch at his loud tone. "How the hell do you call this luck?!"

Italy's honey eyes looked to the side, and his lower lip trembled. "You know what I mean, Ludwig."

Germany shook his head and Italy bowed his head slightly, casting his eyes to the ground. Almost reflexively, Germany stepped forward with his handkerchief and wiped the blood gently from Italy's face. When he was finished, he stared at the bloody handkerchief, feeling impossibly sad.

"Why does this have to happen to you?" he asked. His Italy was so sweet, so innocent, never doing anything terrible enough to warrant this.

"I wish I knew." Italy whispered, shaking his head slowly. "By God I wish I knew."

"Me too." Germany muttered, running a hand over his slicked back blond hair.

Italy shifted his weight to the other foot, twisting his hands together. "You… aren't mad at me, are you?" he asked, eyes catching Germany's nervously.

The question was absurd to Germany. "Why would I?!" he demanded. "It isn't your fault!" _I'm mad it's happening to you and not me._ He added silently.

Germany knew he had done terrible, unforgivable things in his past, things that he could never be forgiven for. It would be much more appropriate for him to die so slowly, so painfully, then for his beloved, chaste Italy to. If he could take this away from Italy, he knew that he would do it in a heartbeat.

"I thought you'd be mad because I've hid it from you for so long." Italy said, sounding a bit helpless. "I didn't want you to know, to think me a burden."

"You're not a burden!" Germany raised his voice subconsciously. "You never were! Why would you think that?!"

"I hid this." Italy said sadly. Sorrowful honey eyes captured sky blue eyes, both filled with shimmering tears. "Doitsu, I knew this was happening to me for such a long time now."

"They should be able to help you." Germany said, brain sluggishly trying to find a solution, any possible solution. "Hospitals, doctors, someone should be able to help. To stop the cause of the bleeding."

The redhead shook his head in sad resignation. "I'm so sorry, Luddy, but I have been to hospitals all over the planet. I would pretend to be going to meetings, and I would go to a lot of different hospitals."

The disheartened expression upon his lover's face tore at Germany's heart, and he took in a deep breath, trying to get his emotions under wrap as he let the breath out slowly.

"Many of the treatments were just experiments." Italy whispered softly. "Terrible, terrible experiments that made me sick, so sick that I wanted to die right then and there. But nothing was helping. Eventually, I stopped. I gave up, because no one could help me. Germany, I'm so sorry that I had to do this to you."

Germany flinched, an image rising unbidden in his mind's eye. He could picture Italy trapped on a bed with needles in his skin and tear tracks on his face. Alone. Italy had faced all of that alone. No one by his side to comfort him, to hold his hand. Italy had suffered so much, Germany knew this without even having to ask. Germany squeezed his eyes shut to keep the moisture clouding them from escaping.

"No, I'm sorry for not noticing." It was hard for Germany to talk around the lump in his throat, and his voice came out rather scratchy and rough.

"It isn't your fault, Luddy, I hid it very well." Italy said, and then doubled over at the waist, coughing harshly into his hands, shaking slightly all over as he slowly straightened.

"I just wish I could do something." Germany said. This feeling of helplessness was terrible. He didn't like this, seeing Italy suffer so terribly with no way to help him.

"Me too." Italy whispered softly, trembling as he lowered himself cautiously into a chair as though his legs were too weak to support him after so much coughing.

Germany couldn't bring himself to say anything, and silence fell over the room.

"I-I still have time, Luddy." Italy said softly, looking up with his tearful honey eyes. "I'm… I'm not going to die yet."

More silence on Germany's part.

"Sorry." Italy whispered softly.

"It's fine." Germany said automatically. It wasn't fine, they both knew it, but no one could be blamed for what was happening.

Italy sniffled quietly. "Luddy, I am so, so sorry." The little redhead wiped at his eyes with a pale skinned hand, catching the tears before they could drip off his face.

"No."

"No?" Italy asked, peeking up at the larger blond.

"Just… don't apologize." Germany said, turning his face to the side so not to see the Italian's tears. He felt as though he were about to break down, and he tried in vain to regain some measure of self control. He was not going to cry. He was not going to cry. He was NOT, under any circumstances, going to cry!

Italy stood from his chair and stumbled, grabbing Germany's arm for balance. That was it. Italy's chaste touch was all it took for his barriers to break down. He grabbed Italy and spun him to crush the redhead to his chest, tears running unchecked down his cheeks.

Small hands clenched in the fabric of Germany's previously neat, ironed shirt, but he only held the redhead tighter, noticing for the first time that Italy was smaller, lighter then Germany could ever remember him being. He could hear Italy's sobs, feel his chest heaving for air, and feel the tears wet his shirt.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry I have to do this to you!" Italy's voice was a heartbroken lament, and Germany could do nothing to help him.

It was a feeling similar to being ripped apart. Germany had never felt a pain similar to this. Years of war, torture, battles, and bloodshed had hardened his body, even now in the midst of a Second World War, but this wound was devastating, irreparable. It was in his heart.

"You don't deserve this…" Italy's voice had dropped to a whisper. "You deserve someone whole, someone healthy." At the end of this line, a small whimper escaped the Italian, as though he had not meant for it to come out.

Germany tightened his grip, holding him closer. "I don't care if you are sick or dying." He said, his voice a growl as he tried to regain some measure of composure. "I'm not going anywhere, do you hear me? I'm staying right here with you whether you hate me for it or not!"

Italy' next words were carried on a sigh. "I could never hate you, Luddy."

"THIS ISN'T FAIR!"

The words were a scream, blasting through the air and making Italy gasp slightly, then bury his face in Germany's shoulder, which was the highest place on the blond that Italy's head could reach comfortably. Germany sobbed, unrestrained, for the first time in as long as he could remember, until his knees grew weak and he fell to the floor. Italy fell with him, landing safe and unscratched in Germany's lap, neither relinquishing their hold on the other.

Italy turned his face up to Germany, and the blond captured those sweet, trembling lips with his own. Italy's usually tasted of sweetness and whatever he had eaten last, usually gelato, pasta, or pizza.

Now, Germany could only taste salty tears and the metallic taste of blood.

The redhead in his arms only returned the kiss for a moment before turning to the side, hand over his mouth as he coughed coughs that made his entire body jerk. When he turned back to Germany, there was blood on his chin and tears in his eyes. With a gentle hand, Germany wiped the blood away, and then turned his head, realizing that his face was wet with tears. Then something amazing happened.

Italy smiled.

Bleeding, broken, and almost defeated, his Italy was smiling. Granted, the smile was barely there, almost invisible, but it was there. Italy, after all of the hell he had been through, was still able to smile. It was the smile he used when he knew everything was hopeless, and just wanted to try to cheer everyone up, raise their spirits just a bit.

Germany stood, and then physically lifted his Italian lover up, placing him down gently on his feet. Italy kept firm hold of Germany's hand and looked up at him, silent and waiting as his little smile faded away.

"We need to get you cleaned up." Germany said quietly, walking forward. And Italy followed, forever the obedient little sheep, up the stairs and to their bedroom.

"Sit." Germany ordered him like one would a dog, and Italy obeyed without a second thought, perching on the edge of the bed.

With a quick glance behind him, Germany went into the bathroom, grabbing a washcloth and running it under the faucet, making a point not to look in the mirror. Then he returned to where Italy was waiting, swinging his feet like a child. Germany knelt in front of the Italian and gently wiping the residual blood from Italy's face before returning the rag to the bathroom. He rinsed it out, watching the water run pinkish down the drain.

By the time he returned to the bedroom a second time, Italy was still on the bed, but now he had changed into a tee shirt that was too big even for Germany and positively swamped Italy's small body, more of a nightgown than anything.

"Italia." Germany said simply, and Italy jumped up, wrapping his thin arms around Germany's middle, blinking his big honey eyes up at Germany innocently.

"What is it, Germany?" Italy asked, tilting his head slightly to one side, an endearing habit that Italy had had since Germany had met him.

"How are you feeling?" Germany asked, a new concern for Italy's emotional and physical state awakening. Of course, he had always cared for Italy's well being, but with this illness, he was even more concerned.

"Tired." Italy admitted, eyes cast downward. "Tired, stuffy, and a bit dizzy and emotionally wrung out."

"Do… Do you feel like this every day?" Germany asked as Italy stepped back, keeping a hold of Germany's hand.

"Usually." Italy said softly, and Germany could see tears forming at the corners of Italy's eyes again. "But usually, I feel alone too."

Italy's honesty surprised Germany, and the blond reacted, wrapping his free hand around the small of Italy's back, pulling the redhead a step closer, then moving his arm up to rest on Italy's shoulder, fingers curling in the red soft hair that lay on the back of Italy's neck.

"Its okay, Italy." Germany said in a surprisingly gentle murmur, smiling gently as Italy's honey eyes met Germany's blue ones.

"You don't have to do this alone anymore."

_You never did._


	3. Memories

**Hey everyone who is reading this so far! Thank you all so much for the support and everything ^^ **

**Just wanted to say that this chapter is going to be all in Italy's point of view. We're going to be looking into some of his memories now! Thanks~**

It was dark.

Italy blinked open his eyes, curled in a loose ball on his side with his back pressed against Germany's. The redhead yawned tiredly, glancing at the clock. It was two in the morning, and sleep weighted the Italian's eyes, making him wonder what on Earth had woken him so early. Normally, Italy slept straight through the night unless he had a bad dream.

Oh, that's why. Ouch.

A now familiar burning feeling made it feel as though he had inhaled flames, scorching their way down his throat and blasted his lungs with hungry flames. With this came the feeling that he was drowning, that he couldn't get quite enough air. The pain was so bad now that Italy had to fight to stay quiet, to keep from waking the still sleeping Germany beside him.

Easing himself carefully into an upright position, Italy glanced at the sleeping blond, finding a smile despite the pain. Honestly, Italy had meant to get this burning feeling checked out a long time ago, but with this Second World War, he scarcely had time to breathe, let alone see a doctor. Besides, it was probably just from all the battles that his military was fighting that made him feel like this. Italy coughed quietly, a wet cough that brought a bad, yet somehow almost familiar, taste to his mouth. He swallowed it back down, just like he had been all day.

Actually, now that Italy thought about it, his stomach felt uneasy too. Letting a snuff of air out of his nose, the redhead passed the faint nausea off as too much pasta.

Then Italy's stomach positively rolled, threatening to take action, and the redhead slid as quickly and quietly as he could, out from under the covers, rushing to the attached bathroom and flicking on the light, shutting the door behind him as he leaned over the sink, breathing raggedly through his mouth. He caught sight of his reflection in the mirror.

His face was pale. Italy touched a hand to his cheek, feeling his cold hand against the warmth of his cheek, wondering if his hand was actually that cold or if he were running a fever. Then his stomach rolled unpleasantly once again, and he grit his teeth, hands gripping the edge of the sink as tight as he could.

Dressed only in a tee shirt of Germany's that could double as a nightgown for Italy's smaller frame, the redhead was feeling cold and rather shivery as his eyes screwed closed against the rising waves of nausea, a bit of a mewl rising up and making hits way through his teeth as tears pricked in the corners of his eyes.

Then his stomach heaved, and Italy vomited into the sink.

His knees almost gave out on him, and Italy braced himself up by leaning his forearms on the counter and leaning his weight on them. His eyes flickered open, and were drawn in an instant to the sink as a feeling of horror nearly choked him.

There was nothing in the sink but pure, glistening, redder then red blood. Italy's breath caught in his throat, and he doubled over at the waist, coughing into his hand, the other arm still braced on the counter to keep him upright. When he straightened up at long last, he pulled his hand away from his mouth, slowly, terrified at what he was going to see in his hand. Sure enough, there was a smear of bright red marring his palm, and Italy felt for a moment as though he were going to faint. This was not normal. Not even for a nation. And to be perfectly honest, he was terrified. His first reaction was to run to Germany, but for some reason, something froze him before he could even move.

Germany had spent the entire day running after Italy, rescuing him when he had gotten captured by the Allies (again), and was even kind enough afterwards to take the Italian out for pasta and gelato for dinner when the day was over. The German had fallen into bed, exhausted, and gone straight to sleep. There was no way Italy would be able to wake him up. He would feel terrible. No, it was better to let Germany sleep. Besides, he should probably see a doctor before he said anything to Germany, just in case it was something dumb.

Italy turned on the tap and rinsed the blood from the sink.

.~*~.

Two weeks later.

The phone sitting on Italy's desk rang suddenly, making the redhead jump, startled out of his thoughts as he reached for it, pushing aside the paper he was working on. Without paying too much attention, Italy pulled the phone to his ear and returned his gaze to the paper he was working on. "Ciao?" he said.

"Is this Feliciano Vargas?"

The sounds of his other name, his human, blend in name, made him freeze. "Yes, this is he." Italy said, stomach clenching in nervousness. The last time he had used his human name was when he went to the doctor's office for an examination.

"Ah, Mr. Vargas, I was hoping I could reach you." The voice on the phone said. "We've received the results from your tests, and I'm sorry to tell you that the results aren't good."

"H-How bad are they?" Italy asked, voice stuttering nervously. His throat burned suddenly, and he coughed into his free hand.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Mr. Vargas, but—" Italy didn't hear very much of what the man on the phone said next, only a few words making their way into his frozen brain. _Internal bleeding. Respiratory distress. Blood in lungs. Thin nasal membrane. _Well that explained all the nosebleeds he had been having._ Prognosis. A few years at most left. Pain. _

"There are several medications that we can try to slow and hopefully halt the progress of the disease." The doctor on the phone said. "I'm afraid they are all highly experimental treatment, and we aren't sure how well they will help."

"I-Is there a name? For what I have, I mean." Italy said, and his voice had dropped to a quieter, more serious tone. "Is it cancer?"

"I'm afraid that we have been conferring with doctors all around the world." The man on the line said. "No one has ever seen a disease like yours."

"I'll do the treatments." Italy whispered. He felt oddly empty. "Just tell me where and when, and I will be there."

.~*~.

Italy lay on the hospital bed, feeling horribly exposed as strange doctors prodded at his body, hands clenched into tight fists at his sides, eyes closed determinedly. Before long, a sheet was laid over his lower half, covering his nakedness, and an oxygen mask fitted to his face, needles slid into his skin.

This was the tenth time he had been put on a bed, poked by doctors, drugs that felt like liquid poison pouring in his veins. Tears ran down his face and into his hair from his laying position, flat on a metal table. He was a lab rat. And it hurt. It hurt so bad he wanted to die.

Still, he was alone by choice. Afraid to tell Germany. He was weak, he knew that he was. He was so scared that Germany would leave him once he knew what was going on. Now here Italy was, alone and scared and hurting in some Russian hospital. Germany thought that Italy was at a meeting with his boss.

Italy wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. His condition wasn't getting any better. In fact, a new symptom had shown up. Dizzy spells that could leave him completely incapable of maintaining his balance.

"This will be the last hospital." He whispered aloud, promising himself.

.~*~.

He opened the door and all but fell through the door, sighing in relief at the sight of this familiar house. It looked as though Germany had was still awake, he could hear him muttering to himself as the blond worked in the kitchen, which stopped once Italy closed the door behind him.

"Doitsu~ I'm home!" Italy called, voice falling into its normal cheerful tone without him trying. It was getting too easy to lie to Germany and pretend nothing was wrong.

"There you are, Italy." Germany sighed as Italy came into the kitchen, setting his bag by the table. The blond looked busy and didn't even glance up when Italy came into the room. "I was beginning to think you had gotten lost somewhere."

"Ve~ I did." Italy admitted with a smile, leaning subtly against the counter as a sudden dizzy spell rushed through him. Luckily, it passed a minute later.

"Well, it's time to go to bed." Germany stood, leaving his papers where they were. "We have a meeting in the morning." Then he glanced up at Italy for the first time. "Hey, are you okay? You look really pale. Your boss is working you too hard."

"I'm okay, Germany." Italy said quickly, letting a bright smile accompany the words. "I just didn't sleep very well all by my self in the hotel." He said, letting a sheepish note creep into his tone.

"Either way, bed. Now." Germany said firmly, pointing towards the staircase as though Italy were a dog.

The redhead followed the command, feeling glad yet guilty that Germany had swallowed the lie so easily.

.~*~.

Four years later.

"Okay, Veneciano." Italy whispered to himself, standing from his desk. "It's now or never, and you know it has to be now."

The redhead was finally ready to come clean to Germany. It had taken so long for him to finally convince himself to do so, and he realized that, if he counted back to when his symptoms began to manifest (even if he hadn't paid attention to them), then he had been sick for just over ten years.

Italy walked quietly through the house, hearing his footsteps echo loudly. He knew that he was going to cry again, he could tell. But Italy hated to get upset now. When he got upset, his lungs and throat bled so much he could cough blood for hours. And crying could make his nose bleed, too.

There was no time to think about it now. All too soon, Italy was standing just outside the doors to Germany's office. He took a deep breath to steel himself, and raised a hand to knock timidly on the door before letting himself into the office.

Germany was hard at work, slaving away over some papers, although he set down his pen and sighed when Italy came in. Nerves mounted in Italy's stomach as he stood in front of Germany's paper covered wooden desk.

"What is it, Italy?" Germany asked, looking up.

"Hey Germany?" Italy asked, hands shaking by his side. "I have a hypothetical question for you."


	4. I'll Protect Him

Germany and Italy sat on the front porch, the redhead in Germany's lap, both of them in silence. Even now, after an hour, Germany's head was still spinning with the news that his beloved was dying. Italy seemed subdued as well, sitting unusually still and docile on Germany's lap, head leaned on the German's broad chest. After a moment of simply listening to the silence, Italy spoke.

"Hey Germany?" the little redhead asked, twisting himself around so that he could look up into Germany's face.

"Yes?" Germany replied.

Italy's gaze moved up, over their heads to look at the stars twinkling high over the earth. "Grandpa Rome once told me that there was a star in the sky for every person in heaven. Do you think there will be stars for you and me one day?"

The blond thought this over for a moment. "If your grandfather says it, then I believe it." He finally replied. True, Rome was a crazy bastard, but there was actually some sense in what he said if one listened close enough.

Honey eyes returned to looking into Germany's blue ones, a small spark of sadness dulling their lovely color. "But do you think that you'll be up there one day?" Italy paused to take a breath and coughed quietly for a moment before continuing. "Or… me?"

"Yes." Germany said firmly, finally understanding what the Italian was asking as he himself turned his blue eyes to the sky. "Yes, I do."

A warm weight against him told the German that Italy had rested his head on Germany's chest once again. "Good." The redhead said. "I want us to be able to be together again one day."

"I hope so." Germany said, holding Italy tight for a moment, resting his chin on the Italian's soft red hair.

"Me too." Italy said, giving a soft laugh that ended with a bout of coughing. The redhead gazed sadly at the blood on his hand. "Me too."

"Are you scared, Italy?" Germany asked. His Italy was always the weak one, the useless scaredy cat who ran away at the slightest hint of danger. Yet this disease was something that Italy had coped with, struggled with, for over a decade all by himself. And then _he_, the cold faced, tough German soldier, broke down like a child, a _kind_, when Italy finally told him about it. It was quite the role reversal.

"To die?" Italy asked, seeking clarification of the question Germany had asked him.

"Ja."

"I… don't know." Italy said, looking small and unsure in the dark. "I've put so much time and energy trying to hide this; I never stopped to think about it."

"I'm afraid of you dying."

Germany inwardly cursed himself, wondering why the hell the filter between his brain and mouth wasn't working tonight. He kept blurting out things he didn't mean to say. Even if everything he had said was true.

Italy nuzzled his head against Germany's military uniform, letting out a tiny sigh. "When I found out, I broke down. I was so upset." The Italian murmured.

"I can see why." Germany said, able to imagine Italy all too clearly, pale and sobbing with tears mixing with blood on his fair skin.

"I realize that I was really sick after I threw up straight blood into the sink one night." A haunted look on Italy's face made Germany think he had underestimated the Italian's fear of what was happening.

"Do you know why this started?" Germany asked, trying to draw Italy's attention away from that one memory that seemed so much more threatening to the redhead.

"No. All I knew was that I couldn't wake you up because you were asleep!" Italy let out a little laugh that he was obviously trying to cheer himself up with.

"You should have woken me up regardless." Germany scolded the Italian, a bit of anger rising up in him. Not at Italy, never at Italy was his anger truly intended.

"You were tired!" Italy objected with a little pout pursing his lips slightly, honey eyes wide and earnest. "I couldn't wake you."

"I don't care." Germany said slowly to ensure that the redhead understood his point clearly. "Do not hide something like this from me again."\

The redhead dropped his gaze to his hands. "I don't think that there will be an again, Luddy." He whispered quietly, that depression returning to weigh down the nation's natural optimism.

"If there is." Germany said. He was not going to give up on his Italy. Never.

Italy sighed quietly, closing his eyes. "I'm tired, Luddy."

"You can go to bed if you'd like." Germany said. It was better for Italy to sleep, Germany decided. The redhead needed to preserve his strength any way possible. Then he looked down as Italy pressed close, arms wrapping around Germany's torso. "You're going to sleep here?" the German asked incredulously.

"I don't feel like moving…" Italy whispered, his voice already becoming faint as he relaxed.

"Are you sure?" Germany double-checked, and only got a sleepy sigh in response. He leaned down to kiss the sleepy nation, which Italy returned halfheartedly, eyes never opening.

"Ti amo… Luddy…" the Italian sighed as he dropped off to sleep.

"Ich liebe dich auch." Germany said.

For a few minutes, Germany simply sat under the light of the moon, holding the slumbering nation in his arms. Then he stood carefully, carrying the nation in the house, up the stairs, to the bed that he knew the Italian would end up in by morning anyway, laying him down and covering him with the blanket. Once he was finished, Germany changed into his pajamas and slid into the other side of the bed, closing his eyes with a sigh. He was exhausted, and fell asleep quickly.

.~*~.

"Germany?"

The blond nation let out a weary sigh, turning over and burying his face in the pillow. "Hm?" he grunted in a low and sleepy voice.

"I think its morning, Luddy." Italy's sweet voice said as a finger prodded his shoulder. With an unwilling sigh, Germany propped himself up on one elbow and opened his eyes. Bright mid morning light streamed in the window, lighting up the room and giving the redhead in front of him a coppery red halo.

"And so it is." Germany sat up completely, running a hand through his loose blond locks. Italy smiled at him, the bright smile ruined by a smear of rusty colored dried blood at the corner of his lip. Even so, Germany faked a smile for the redhead. "Good morning, sunshine." He said, able to hear the forced cheerfulness in his own voice.

Tilting his head to one side, Italy frowned slightly. "Your smile looks weird." He observed, and Germany cursed inwardly. Of all the days for the Italian to be observant…

"It does?" Germany played dumb, and Italy nodded, the solemn expression not fitting for him. "But this is how I always smile." Germany said.

Understanding suddenly dawned on Italy's face. "Do I have something on my face?" he asked, those honey eyes immediately darkening with sadness. He brought a small hand up and wiped at his mouth until the rusty smear was gone.

"How do you feel, Ita?" Germany asked, a note of concern lacing through his rough German accent.

"I feel ok." Italy said, with a shrug and his characteristic happy smile. He scooted over and sat on Germany's lap, looking up into Germany's face with an eager expression. "So what are we going to do today, Luddy?"

"We'll go train, and then I have to go to work." Germany said automatically, gently pushing the Italian off his lap so he could stand up. The smaller Italian scrambled back to his side of the bed as Germany stood.

As his body went through the automatic notions of getting dressed for the day, his mind began to wander. Italy still looked well enough, other then the fact that he seemed smaller, thinner then usual. Training wouldn't hurt him, right? It would be good for him as long as they took it real easy.

To Germany's surprise, Italy did not complain once during training. Actually, he had barely spoken at all, which was almost a miracle. When they finished their final lap, Germany's heart barely beat faster then normal, but Italy was panting a bit, which was much different then their normal training which could even leave Germany drenched in sweat. The blond sat heavily on a bench as Italy ran off, something about looking for a bathroom before they headed home, and rested his chin on his hand.

After about ten minutes, Germany stood, assuming that the Italian had gotten lost. He walked around briskly, looking for Italy but not seeing hide or hair of him. At last, Germany decided to check the bathrooms.

"Italy?" The German called softly as he approached the door. He got no verbal response, but there was definitely some sound coming from inside the public bathroom. Hesitantly, the blond cracked the door open.

A beam of light fell through the door, illuminating only a sliver of the surprisingly dark bathroom and falling on a shock of bright red hair, kneeling over a toilet, accompanied by retching. Opening the door wide enough to slip inside, Germany walked over and knelt beside Italy, not flinching at the smell of vomit, holding back the Italian's red hair, rubbing his back soothingly until Italy leaned against him, exhausted from his ordeal. The look in Italy's lovely honey eyes was heartbreaking to see, so Germany looked away, focusing his attention on wiping the dark blood from his lover's lips.

"Are you okay?" Germany asked, his voice a low rumble. "Was I too hard on you? I tried to go easy with the training, but evidently it was too much."

"I-I'm okay." Italy whispered, the blatant lie almost making Germany roll his eyes. "I-I don't know if I c-can train anymore…" the redhead added in an even fainter whisper.

Germany gathered Italy in his arms and stood, kicking the door open and carrying his lover into the sunshine. "Then you will not train anymore, Italien." The blond said as a very tired redhead rested his head against Germany's chest. "Go ahead and rest, Italy, I will get you home safe."

With a quiet sigh, Italy nuzzled his head gently into Germany's chest and his eyes closed, breathing deepening as Germany began the walk home.

Walking in silence so not to wake his sleeping lover, the blond tried to keep his footsteps even to prevent from jostling as his mind worked.

_He can no longer hold up to training, _Germany thought, a small frown creasing his forehead._ He must have worked hard to hide his decline from me for so long. He must have been throwing up after training for awhile now. So obviously he can't train any longer. I wonder what else he has kept from me. He's definitely more fragile and weaker then he was before, and I'll bet his immune system is shot to hell and back. For Fritz's sake, he's been handling an illness and fighting a war at the same time! He's been alone like this for too long. I'll be there for him from now on. I'll help him. I'll protect him._

_And by God, _Germany thought, resolve hardening his eyes, _I will find a way to save him._


	5. Surrender

Weeks passed, and Germany began to notice the signs of Italy's declining state. The redhead slept more, ate less, was more easily tired, and that damnable coughs was growing steadily worse, as were the nosebleeds that Italy sometimes suffered from, and times of dizziness that could leave the redhead collapsed on the floor, fully conscious. Luckily, after Germany ceased Italy's training, the redhead stopped vomiting almost completely. Most of the time, however, Germany could hear Italy wandering around the house, cleaning and cooking and singing like there was nothing wrong.

"Are you finished your work yet, Luddy?" Italy asked excitedly as Germany left his little at home office, where he had been slaving over some documents.

"Yes." The blond said, rubbing a crick in his neck from looking down for so long that the sun had set and the moon was coming up.

"Ve~ Good!" Italy gave a little hop, a cheerful smile breaking over his face.

"Yes, I'm happy too." Germany said, heading into the living, Italy following like a puppy, exactly like Germany's Doberman puppy, Aster, who trotted along at the heels of Berlitz and Blackie, the blonde's other two dogs. Germany sighed as he sat in an armchair.

Italy let out another little "Ve~" before climbing onto Germany's lap and settling down there happily as Germany wrapped an arm around the redhead's waist to keep him balanced. He yawned as Italy pressed closer to Germany, shivering slightly.

"I'm cold." Italy said, not in a whining tone, but in a plain, stating the facts tone, and Germany wrapped his other arm around Italy, pulling him closer to his warmth.

"It's getting late," Germany observed, detaching one arm from Italy so he could look at his watch. "Have you eaten, Italy?"

"Sì." The redhead said cheerfully. "I made some pasta and then I ate some gelato! Luddy, you keep yawning. We should go to bed."

"You can, but I'm going to stay up a little longer." Germany said, eyes wandering back to those last couple documents that needed finished.

"Aw, but it'll be cold all by myself." Italy leaned against Germany's chest, looking up at the blond and pouting slightly, drawing his eyebrows together slightly in what was well known as his "Feli Look".

"Nein." Germany said firmly. He gave into that look far too often as it was.

Italy sighed, and then brightened slightly. "Then I'll stay up and keep Luddy company!" he said, looking very happy with his solution while Germany fought off a strong desire to facepalm.

"I think you should get some rest," Germany said, causing Italy's happy smile to fade from his face, leaving Germany feeling slightly guilty.

"I don't wanna…" Italy said, delicate features falling back into his Feli Look.

"You're sick." Germany said.

"So? I napped earlier."

"That is not the point."

"Then what is the point?"

Germany pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to push back the growing headache. "You need to get a lot of rest. It will keep you from picking up an illness in addition to the one you already have." He spoke slowly, with a forced calm. He loved the little Italian dearly, but _mein Gott _he gave him a headache sometimes!

"Ve…" Italy said softly. "Does it even matter now?"

"Fine." Germany said, moving the Italian from his lap and standing up, a plan already in his mind. "Stay up if you wish, but I'm going to bed."

As predicted, Italy jumped right up, grabbing on to Germany's hand, looking up into Germany's blue eyes. The blond noted the paleness of Italy's face, the lack of color in his cheeks, the faint shadows under his eyes. He looked slightly sleep deprived, and followed Germany all too willingly to their room, stripping from his pants and shirt and climbing into bed in just his underwear. Germany changed into a pair of pajama pants and a tank top before joining Italy under the covers.

Italy pressed close, leaning up to press a soft kiss to Germany's cheek before settling down and wrapping his arms around the blonde's torso, giving a content sigh. Germany wrapped one arm around Italy, using his other arm as a pillow. He dropped off to sleep quickly.

.~*~.

"Verdammt!" Germany swore, slamming one large hand down on his desk so hard he could hear the wood beneath his hand protest. He glared at the paper on his desk as though he could change what it said. He was losing. He, the mighty Germany, was losing the war. His Furor had promised them victory, but he was wrong. And Germany was helpless to the power of the people, the things his Furor made him do.

He was helpless to stop the horrible places that this man, if the Furor could even be called that, put up in his country. There were a few of them even in Italy's nation. Death camps. But he was still losing. Japan was ready to fight until the last man standing, but Italy…

Italy.

The redhead had been forced to do some terrible, terrible things, things that caused him to scream in his sleep, to beg forgiveness at church everyday, and still feel tainted. His Italy was too fragile, too weak to deal with this. Germany could not let his innocent lover be dragged down with him. There was only one solution.

.~*~.

October 13th, 1943

"Please, Germany, don't make me do this!" Italy whimpered tearfully, clutching at Germany's shirt.

"You know that I must do this. That _you_ must do this." Germany said urgently, trying to ignore the grief biting at his own heart. "It's for the best, Feliciano. And it's not for forever."

Italy nodded, and Germany dried the redhead's tears, kissing him briefly before pushing him gently, more of a nudge. "Now go." Germany said softly. "Remember what I told you."

Already, stage one of Germany's plan had been carried through flawlessly. It only took a bit of nudging from Italy for the redhead's government to surrender to the Allied Forces, causing the nation to become neutral for a period of time. Now it was time for stage two of his plan, the one that really broke both of their hearts.

Once again, Italy nodded, and then rounded the corner, out of Germany's sight almost instantly. He wasn't out of earshot, though.

"Bloody hell?! What are you doing here, Italy?!" Came an English voice, sounding rather shocked.

"Maybe he is an Axis spy, da?" Russia's deep, yet somehow still childish, voice came, and Germany cursed silently. Italy was terrified of that bastard.

"I-I'm ready to join the A-Allied Forces." Italy said, voice wavering but still strong.

"How do we know this isn't a trick?" Britain asked suspiciously.

"Because I've left the Axis." Italy's voice grew a bit stronger. "I have left the Axis Powers, and I have left Germany as well." Even though Germany knew that Italy didn't mean it like that, hearing that particular sentence hurt a bit.

"Mon dieu!" France cried dramatically. "England, he has to be telling the truth! There is no way Italy would just leave him!"

"I understand what you are saying, France." England said, sounding as though he was mulling over the situation. "But I don't know if I can believe this."

"I don't wanna be part of the Axis any more!" Italy said, voice dropping into a bit of a whimper, and Germany just _knew_ that he was using the Feli Look.

There was a moment of silence, and then France spoke.

"I believe him."

"As do I."

"He is joining the Allies now, da?"

"Aiyah, I agree."

"Very well, Italy." Britain said, sighing. "You may join us, but be warned: we will be watching you to make sure that you are no longer loyal to the Axis. Is that understood?"

"Sì."

From where he was hiding, Germany gave a quiet sigh of mingled relief and regret. Yes, his Italy was safe for now, but who knew how long it would be until they saw each other again? He didn't say a word as he walked away from the Allies.

He had made sure that Italy knew what to do. Italy was to hide out the rest of the war under the protection of the Allied Forces, where he would be safe. The redhead was also to keep his illness hidden from the Allies. When the war finally ended, Italy could come back home.

But for now, Germany had to go back to where he would be living alone for the remainder of the war. Granted, he had Berlitz, Blackie, and Aster, but it was different without other human company. It was times like that that made Germany really miss his older brother, the man who had once been the Kingdom of Prussia, then just the renegade ex-nation who lived in Germany's basement, until…

Germany grit his teeth, forcing back the memories. Memories of a cold warehouse, of pain and gunshots and Italy's lifeblood being spilled across the floor. Where Prussia was killed by the hand of one of his two closest friends.

Nein! He wasn't going to think about it anymore. It was in the past now, and he would not dwell on it anymore.

Blackie and Berlitz did their best to knock Germany over when he came though the door, and little Aster skipped around Germany's ankles, not letting him take more then a step until the blond reached down to pet her. The puppy whimpered, looking around. Germany knew that she was looking for Italy.

"Sorry, liebe, but Feliciano won't be home for awhile." Germany said softly, picking the puppy up and holding her to his chest for a moment. His voice seemed to echo around the otherwise empty house.

The German reached in his pocket and pulled out a ring, a simple gold band with a tiny diamond set into the centre. Italy's engagement ring. They had known that Italy couldn't take it with him to join the Allies, so the redhead had left it with Germany for safe keeping.

That night, Germany lay in bed alone for the first time since the war had started. The gold band was strung on a chain around his neck, and the blond fell asleep to dream of the days when he could put the ring on Italy's slender finger once more.


	6. End of War

The rifle sat heavy on his shoulder, the dust and smoke in the air was almost suffocating. The sun beat down on his thick uniform, and his hair was greasy from the lack of a shower and from sweat. Loud voices and gunshots assaulted his eardrums, but he did not pause. Shoot, reload, shoot again. That's all that mattered.

Germany stopped for a second to wipe the sweat from his brow before it could sting his eyes, then ducked into a blown out building for a second. He was down to the last bullet in his gun and needed to reload. He turned around and froze.

Across the room stood Italy, barely ten feet away and with his rifle pointed at Germany, a look of desperate fear in his eyes. Next to the redhead stood a short, thick browed man. England.

This was the first time that they had seen each other since the day that Italy had joined the Allies. Almost two years had passed since that day, and Germany's forces were pulling together for one last, desperate rally. Italy looked small in a slightly too large uniform, and his thin red hands shook. Fear danced in those lovely honey eyes, for they both knew what would happen. One would have to shoot the other.

Germany met Italy's honey eyes evenly, his blue ones understanding as he gave a tiny, almost imperceptible incline of his head. Italy's eyes slid to the side, glancing briefly at Britain, before those wide eyes returned to Germany, full of apology.

Italy fired the rifle, and Germany's world exploded in pain before going black.

.~*~.

Italy shifted on the balls of his feet, glancing at the other Allies, nerves on edge. The war was almost over, and Italy was just waiting for the Allied alliance for the war to be dissolved. The Allies had won. As soon as that happened…

"Alright, all we have to do is sign it." Britain said, looking over the document with a satisfied look to his green eyes. He signed his name to the paper before passing it on.

"Ahahaha! The hero will sign next!" America laughed loudly, snatching a pen and scrawling his name beneath England's neat writing.

"This war has dragged on for far too long." France sighed with obvious relief as he signed his name with a flourish and passed the document on.

"Da, I am agreeing with France." Russia said, the pen looking tiny and delicate in his large hand as he signed.

"Aiyah…" China said with a weary sigh, adding his name to the paper. He passed it to Italy.

The redhead's hand shook slightly as he signed _Veneciano Italy _beneath the names, freeing himself from the alliance that kept him from Germany. He felt faintly dizzy as he handed the paper back to England.

The green eyed nation smiled at Italy, an almost fond look softening his expression. "Well, what are you waiting for, Italy?" Britain said. "Go home."

"Ve?" Italy said in confusion.

"He means that he believes there is a certain man waiting for his lover to come home." France said with a wink. And Italy understood.

"Grazie!" Italy squealed, and tore from the room.

.~*~.

Aster lifted her head, ears standing up and staring intently at the door. Germany pet the puppy, wincing as the movement pulled at the still healing muscle of his arm. Then Germany frowned, hearing rapid footsteps coming to his door. He stifled a sigh, wondering what the military needed now, and then he paused mid breath. These footsteps, they made a pitter pattering sound unlike his military's boots. These steps almost sounded like…

"Italy!" Germany vaulted up from his chair and yanked the front door open just in time for the redhead to rocket into him, wrapping tiny arms around him. Without saying a word, Germany yanked the chain from his neck, snapping it, and he pulled the ring from it, dropping to one knee and taking Italy's hand gently.

"Oh, Germany." Italy said softly, honey eyes filled with tears as Germany slid the gold band into place on Italy's finger.

They were together once again.

.~*~.

It took only a few days for them to settle back into their normal routine, so it almost seemed as though Italy's two year absence from the household had never occurred. Germany found that Italy's condition was about as stable as it had been when they were separated, but those strange little episodes of depression that the redhead sometimes suffered from still happened.

"Nee! Germany!" Italy cried, and Germany uncrossed his legs quickly, knowing that sitting cross legged would only make the inevitable Italian leaping on his lap hurt even more. Sure enough, Italy landed directly in the center of his lap, sparkling honey eyes looking up into Germany's blue eyes.

"What is it, Italien?" Germany asked, wrapping his arms around him as Italy snuggled his head into the crook of Germany's neck.

"Do you… Are you angry at all?" Italy asked, peering up into Germany's eyes.

"No." Germany decided that he did not like the direction that the conversation was taking. Sure enough, Italy's beautiful honey eyes grew dark, and an unexplainable sadness seemed to settle over the Italian.

"I think… I think I'm angry." The redhead said, a twisted smile on his lips. Then he pulled away, harsh coughs making his entire body shake.

"Why?" Germany asked, rubbing Italy's back gently in an attempt to soothe him.

Italy let out a tiny sigh as he regained his breath. "Because it's so unfair." Italy said softly. I may be centuries old, I've survived two World Wars, and now I'm…" the redhead sniffled softly, looking utterly miserable that it made even Germany's hardened heart hurt.

"Come on, Fels, stay strong." Germany said, letting his voice drop to a low, comforting tone. "Think of this as another war, but only one with yourself. If you've survived those two wars, then you can survive this one. Don't lose faith."

Tears fell down those pale cheeks, and Italy wiped at them, until Germany caught his hands. "You'll make your eyes sore." Germany warned. No matter how many times he told him, the redhead never learned.

"I've told you what's going to happen, Luddy." Italy murmured softly.

Germany frowned slightly. He didn't like seeing Italy so down and sad, it didn't fit the redhead's personality at all. Germany was supposed to be the serious one, not his little Italy. Italy was supposed to be cheerful and happy.

"You never know." Germany said. "I still have the faith that you could beat this, Feli."

Italy didn't reply, hiding his face instead in Germany's shirt. The blond felt Italy's tears soaking into his shirt, and he kissed the top of the Italian's red hair, continuing to rub soothing circles on Italy's back.

Italy coughed. "I'm sorry." He whispered.

"Don't apologize." Germany sighed. He heard Italy apologize so much; it drove him crazy at times. "You can cry. It's okay to cry." He also rather disliked it when Italy cried, but he could admit that the redhead had more then enough to cry about at this point.

"I-I don't wanna… cry anymore…" Italy whimpered, and his tiny body shook with sobs that he was holding back so desperately. Germany looked at him with confusion, so Italy explained. "I cry a lot, Luddy. At night, once you've fallen asleep."

"Why didn't you wake me?" Germany demanded, voice snapping unintentionally, so that Italy buried his face in Germany's shirt again.

"I-I don't know?" Italy said, the sentence coming out as more of a question in response to Germany's harsh tone. "I couldn't let you know."

"And why not?" Germany asked, and once again his voice came out sounding much harsher than he had intended.

"I just couldn't… I was… I don't know…" Italy's voice grew higher pitched as the redhead grew even more flustered, his sentences turning to broken fragments.

Germany merely sighed in response, running a hand over his slicked back blond hair. He had no idea what to say; he was always so terrible when it came to things like this, and now he was left with an obviously upset Italian peering up at him.

"I'm sorry, Luddy." Italy said, a tiny hand patting Germany's cheek, batting against him gently, like a kitten playing with a ball of yarn. "But you're always so tired from dealing with me."

_I don't _deal _with you! I love you! _Germany wanted to scream the words, but the only words that fell from his lips was, "It's a good reason to be woken up."

"I just couldn't. You needed sleep." Italy said, lips curving up into a little smile, a sign that his episode of depression was starting to lift. "Ve~ Luddy has been working so hard since the war ended, and his arm is still healing where Feli shot him, so Germany needed to sleep!"

"I still wish you would have woken me." Germany tried to keep his serious tone, but it was hard to keep such a serious expression when it was so good to see his Italy returning to his normal optimism.

"Old habits die hard." Italy said with a wry smile, even as Germany flinched at the redhead's wording.

"It's alright." Germany said automatically.

"Ti—" Italy broke off mid sentence, coughing into his hand until his face was pale, and Germany used a handkerchief to gently wipe the blood from the redhead's lips and hands.

"Take it easy, Feli." Germany said as he pressed the handkerchief into Italy's hand. "And hold on to this. It isn't sanitary to cough into your hands like that." He scolded gently.

"Ve~ Thank you, Luddy!" Italy said, his normal cheerfulness now back in full swing.

"Ja, Ja." Germany sighed softly, lips curving off into a barely noticeable smile as Italy bounced on his lap, babbling on and on about some thing or another, honey eyes sparkling and the handkerchief still clutched in one hand.

"So what do you say, Luddy?" Italy asked, looking up with hopeful eyes, and Germany realized that he hadn't heard a single thing that his lover had said.

"Ah… I'm sorry Italy, my mind was wandering. Can you repeat that?" Germany said.

"I asked if Germany wanted to go on a picnic with his Italy tomorrow!" Italy said, his smile never faltering in the slightest.

"I… uh…" Germany's mind flashed to the small stack of unfinished documents sitting on his desk. But Italy's honey eyes were so wide and hopeful, and the little redhead didn't get too much to look forward to…

"Fine." Germany sighed, and Italy gave an excited squee, throwing his arms around Germany's neck before shooting off like a redheaded rocket.

Germany let out a chuckle mixed with a sigh and stood. If they were going on a picnic tomorrow, then it looked like he'd be staying up late to finish those papers before their due date.

Oh well, anything for Italy.


	7. Picnic

Germany woke the next morning to his own internal alarm, one that proved much better then a manual one, and slid out of bed without waking the Italian who slumbered on next to him. The blonde always woke early, wanting to get a head start on the day, and was halfway out the door to go train before he remembered. He had promised Italy a picnic.

With a small sigh, he removed his boots and sat them neatly by the door, hanging up his jacket as well. He peered out the window and up at the grey sky, from which a light mist was falling. Germany did not worry about the weather ruining the picnic, for the clouds were already thinning, the sun's weak rays making their way to give the world a touch of color. Even so, Germany decided he would take an umbrella, just to be safe.

It took a few hours before Italy woke, time in which spent settled on the couch, most of his attention focused on the book he held in one hand, his other hand absentmindedly petting the soft fur of Aster's ears, while Berlitz snoozed with his head on his master's knee. Old Blackie was curled up on the rug, snoring softly.

"Nee! Luddy!" came a distinctive cry, and Italy came hurtling down the steps like a redheaded meteor, exciting the dogs into running around the room. Except for Blackie, who was old and part deaf, and the dog slumbered on, his gentle snores muffled by the younger dogs' barking and Italy's excitement. "We're going to miss our picnic!"

The redhead had the basket on his arm and was heading for the door when Germany stood and held out his arm in front of the door, causing the Italian to run into the well muscled arm, not budging despite the impact of the redhead crashing into him.

"Pants." Germany said.

Italy looked down, then rocketed back up the stairs, and returned wearing a pair of pants. "Ve~ Now can we go?" Italy pleaded, honey eyes bright.

"Not yet." Germany sighed and pushed Italy gently to sit on the couch, then kneeled in front of him, tying the redhead's shoes. "Look at you, Italy." Germany sighed again. "Shoes untied, hair not combed. Honestly, Italy, what am I going to do with you?"

"Ve~" Italy did not seemed too troubled by the criticism, seeing as he heard it every day, and the redhead merely combed his fingers through his hair to make it look a bit more presentable.

"How on Earth can we miss our picnic, anyways?" Germany asked, moving his hands to Italy's other shoe, tying an expert knot.

"I don't know." Italy admitted sheepishly, a smile on his face as he clutched the picnic basket in his slim fingers.

Germany stood again with a slight grunt and grabbed an umbrella from the closet. Granted, the sun shone, but the weather could be unpredictable this time of the year.

"Alright, let's go." Germany said.

"Yay!" Italy hopped up and grabbed onto Germany's arm, beaming up at the German as they headed out the door. "Ooh! Luddy, look!" Italy squealed, pointing up at the sky.

Germany looked up, following Italy's finger, to see a perfect rainbow spanning the sky. "Ja, it is very lovely." The blond said, stopping for a moment to admire the perfect span of colors before walking on.

After awhile, Italy let go of Germany to skip in little circles around the blond, swinging the picnic basket in one hand. Germany allotted this, at least until he started to get a bit dizzy from his eyes subconsciously following Italy.

"Mein Gott, Italien!" Germany said, grabbing hold of the Italian's wrist and effectively putting a stop to the skipping. "I don't care if you skip, but do it in a straight line. Bitte." He added the please on the end simply so Italy wouldn't think he was getting yelled at.

"Ve~ Sorry, Luddy." Italy said, smiling as they reached their destination, a grassy part of a park, shaded by a few trees.

As expected, Germany was left with the task of spreading out the blanket and setting out the food as Italy ran off, chasing a butterfly around. The blond German sat cross legged on the blanket, simply keeping an eye on Italy to make sure that the redhead didn't wander off or trip over some stick or rock hidden in the grass. The redhead seemed to have a lot of energy today despite his condition.

"Alright, Ita, you've had your fun. Come eat." Germany called to the redhead as Italy's butterfly fluttered high over his head, out of reach.

"Alright, Luddy!" Italy called cheerfully, skipping over and plopping down on the blanket, reaching for his food. Pasta, of course, but the redhead had made sure to pack some wurst and potatoes for Germany. Both nations settled into their food quite contentedly, until…

"Mrow?"

"Kitty!" Italy gasped, even as his head whipped around to locate where the meowing was coming from, a noodle hanging from his mouth until he slurped it up.

There, sitting daintily by the blanket, one of the largest cats that Germany had ever seen. It wasn't a fat cat, just tall and big boned and amazingly fluffy, probably a Maine Coon. It was a sandy blonde colored tabby with a white tail tip and blue green eyes. Germany groaned to himself. He could _see_ Italy's heart melting.

"Mew~" went the cat.

The redhead turned to Germany, eyes wide and pleading. "Germany?"

"Nein!" Germany said instantly. "We are not keeping this cat, understood? We have three dogs at home!"

"But look at her!" Italy said, brow slightly creased, lip faintly quivering. "She's all alone out here. She'll get all wet if it rains, and she might be hungry."

Germany pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Listen, Italy. We can't keep the cat. But—" he said loudly as Italy showed every intention of wanting to interrupt "—we can see if one of the other nations can take of her."

"Ve~ Germany I love you, you're the best!" Italy cried, glomping the larger nation, catching him and effectively knocking the blonde on his back.

"Ack! Careful, Italien." Germany said as he righted himself. Italy simply beamed at him for a moment before stealing part of Germany's wurst.

"Here you go, kitty kitty~" Italy sang, holding a piece of wurst out to the cat, who took it and daintily ate it. "So Luddy, who should we talk to about the cat?" Italy asked, turning his lovely brown eyes on Germany.

"Hm…" Germany thought about it. France and England both hated cats, There was no way in Hell Italy would let the cat go to Russia, so—

"How about America?" Italy suggested, looking pleased with himself. "He likes kitties, and Echo can be friends with the cat America already has!"

"Echo?" Germany said dubiously, peering at the cat.

"Ve~ that's what I want to call her." Italy said, returning to his pasta, still patting the cat with his other hand. The cat's purring was audible as she butted her head gently against Italy's petting, occasionally breaking away to nibble off another piece of the wurst segment that sat at her paws. Germany merely sighed and returned to his food.

Once they were finished eating, Germany packed their utensils away in the basket while Ita played with the cat, dangling a long piece of grass in front of her and laughing as Echo batted at it. With Italy distracted, Germany pulled his book out of the picnic basket, having added it to the basket, and flipped it open to his pre marked page.

For a bit, they just sat in the dappled shade under the tree, both occupied with their own activities, but enjoying each others' company just the same, until Germany noted that the sky was growing dark with the threat of rain once again. He closed his book and stood.

"Nee? Is it time to go home?" Italy asked, looking up through red bangs at Germany.

"Ja. I would like to get home before this rain starts." Germany said, pointing up to the slowly darkening clouds, and Italy scrambled to his feet, helping the German to fold and pack the blanket.

Echo the cat seemed disturbed by the approaching threat of rain, and leaped into the basket after the blanket, nestling herself into the fabric and looking at them with her blue green eyes as though personally daring one of them to move her.

At this development, Germany could only sigh, lifting the basket on one arm, hooking the umbrella on his belt loop for easier access should the rain start. Italy walked beside him, kicking at a pebble on the sidewalk until they reached town again, where the streets were mostly empty.

"Germany." Italy's voice startled the blond, who had been lost in thought. Germany looked down at his companion and felt his eyes widen.

Italy's face was pale. Not pale, Germany realized, but ashen, even the skin of his lips was colorless, and the redhead's eyes were glassy. Sweat beaded on the Italian's forehead, and he kept swallowing repeatedly.

"Scheiße!" Germany cursed, scanning the street. He spotted a trashcan and led Italy over to it quickly.

They barely made it. Germany used one arm to hold Italy upright and his other hand to keep Italy's hair back as the redhead vomited his meal into the trashcan, pasta mixed with dark red blood.

Once Italy finished throwing up, Germany led him to a nearby bench, leaving him with the picnic basket and Echo while he got a water bottle and a disposable bag from a nearby store. He sat back on the bench next to Italy, handing him the water and bag and giving the redhead time to recover. When rain began to drizzle down, Germany opened the umbrella and held it over the both of them.

"Ve…" Italy said, the first thing he had said since his ordeal, and Germany looked over to see him sip cautiously from the water bottle, a bit of color back in his face.

"Do you feel better now?" Germany asked. "Can you walk?"

"I… I think I'm okay now, Luddy." Italy said, giving a wobbly smile. "I just feel kind of shaky, but I can make it the rest of the way home."

"Are you sure?" Germany asked, fretting just a bit. "I can carry both you and the basket if I need to." He said, only to be met by Italy shaking his head.

"I'm okay now, Luddy, I think I just ate too much." Italy said, running a hand through his red hair. They both knew he was lying. They had both seen the blood.

"Alright…" Germany said dubiously. But if you feel any worse, of like you're going to be sick again, you have to let me know right away. That's an order."

"Sir yes sir!" Italy quipped, standing and giving Germany a left hand salute.

"Wrong hand." Germany said as he stood as well, and Italy was quick to switch hands, a sheepish giggle escaping his lips as they started to walk again.

Now, Germany watched Italy out of the corner of his eye, noting when the Italian stumbled, when he lost his balance, when he was forced to his knees for a moment through a dizzy spell. Through all this, Germany did his best to keep the rain off of the Italian, thinking that he didn't need a cold on top of his illness.

As they left the town behind and walked the stretch of lane that led to Germany's rather secluded home, Italy's steps slowly became more sure, his balance evening, and he walked rather confidently by Germany's side, flashing the tall blonde a quick smile every now and then.

"Nee Luddy, can we stop a moment?" Italy asked when they came across a second bench, sitting down heavily on it even before Germany said anything.

"Of course, Vene." Germany said, sitting next to Italy and using the nickname derived from Italy's first name, Veneciano. "Alright, now how do you feel? Don't hold back anything." He warned.

"My stomach mostly feels okay now." Italy said slowly. "And my legs don't feel as shaky. But my head keeps going all floaty on me, and I keep getting kind of dizzy." As he spoke, the redhead gestured to the various mentioned parts of his body.

"We're almost home, Italy." Germany said to try to pacify himself as well as his Italy, who was looking rather pale again, though his skin had changed from an alarming shade of grey to an equally alarming white.

"I know." Italy said with a weak smile as they stood again. Italy clung tightly to Germany's arm, occasionally leaning on him when the redhead suffered a particularly bad dizzy spell. He didn't want to stop walking though.

"I'll make sure to call America to ask about Echo." Germany said, talking simply to try to ease his anxiety. "I'm sure he'll love her. Right?"

"Right…" Germany looked down, a spark of alarm racing through him when he heard how faint Italy's voice had grown.

Almost in the exact same moment, Italy became a deadweight against Germany, arms falling limp and knees giving out, sending him slumping towards the pavement, and the blond dropped the picnic basket and threw the umbrella aside, falling to his knees in order to catch the small, frightfully light Italian before his head could strike the ground.

"Italy?!" Germany shouted, panicked. "Italy! Italien!"

He called desperately, and relief hit him as he saw Italy's bright honey eyes flicker slightly open, their lovely color only a sliver.

"Luddy…" Italy whispered quietly. "I-I'm sorry…"

"Hush, save your breath." Germany said, voice sounding a bit harsher then he would have liked in the situation.

"I ruined… our picnic…"

With that, his eyes closed again, and rain fell on his cheeks, rolling off the pale skin and leaving tear-like patterns on those pale cheeks.


	8. Anger

_Germany stood in the front row of a crowd dressed in black, his head bowed, fingers clutched tightly around a small cross necklace in his hand. His heart ached from sadness, yet he could not shed a tear as the dark mahogany coffin was lowered into the ground, beautiful Felicia daisies and white lilies adorning the top of the casket, and drops of rain began to fall from the dark clouds overhead, as though the Earth itself was grieving for the beloved nation who had passed on._

_A hand on his shoulder made Germany look up, and met Hungary's grief darkened eyes before she pulled him into a hug. Italy was dead. How could that pasta loving fool be dead? But here they were, the entire world standing and waiting for them to lower the casket containing Italy's pale corpse into the ground. It was impossible. Like a dam had broken, all of Germany's tears burst forth, cascading down his cheeks. _

"_He can't be gone! Italy!"_

"Italy! No, Italy!"

"Germany, wake up!"

Germany woke with a start, sitting bolt upright, and his heart pounding out of control. He looked around, wild eyed, until he remembered. Italy had collapsed on their way home from their picnic, and Germany had carried the sick, fevered nation home, put him to bed. Now Germany realized he must have fallen asleep at Italy's bedside after keeping an all night vigil over his little fiancé.

"Nee? Are you okay, Luddy?" Italy's voice grabbed Germany's attention, and the blond looked up.

The thin redhead as propped up on one arm, the other reached out to Germany, delicate hand resting on top of Germany's hand, which was much bigger and rougher by comparison. With his pale skin, fever flush, and overall shakiness, the little Italian looked like he had been dragged to hell and back, then run over by a truck. But he was conscious, his fever still there but not nearly as dangerous as it had been.

"Ja, it was a bad dream." Germany said, hands shaking as he pushed Italy gently, forcing him to lie back down. The German ran a hand through his hair to try to gain back some of his composure.

"Luddy, you're crying…" Italy said softly, reaching up a hand to brush away the wet tracks on Germany's cheeks.

Placing his hand over it, Germany held Italy's hand to his cheek, eyes closing for a moment. "It was just a dream. It's okay now." He said, and the words were more for himself then his little redhead. "How do you feel?"

"I've had worse." Italy offered with a slight shrug, rolling over to his side as Germany sat in the chair by Italy's bed once again. Those pretty honey eyes looked up at him, still glassy from fever, but pretty nonetheless.

"That is true." Germany allowed. "But that doesn't matter much now. You're fever is lower, but it's still pretty high."

"Oh! Luddy, what happened to Echo?!" Italy asked, startling into a half upright position.

"England came for her yesterday, and England will make sure that she gets to America safe and sound." Germany explained, once again pushing Italy to lie down on the bed, and the little redhead pouted quietly.

"Ve~ I'm sorry about the picnic, Luddy." Italy said softly.

The reminder about the disastrous picnic lit a flame of anger in Germany, and he stood again, towering over the laying down Italian. "Why didn't you tell me you how bad you felt?!" he yelled. "How long were you feeling bad and not telling me?! Since we had eaten? Since we left the _house?! _Goddamn it! Italy, you fainted and I seriously thought that you were dying!" he screamed, tears on his cheeks again.

Italy had shrank down, pulling the covers over his head as Germany yelled at him, but with that last sentence, he cautiously poked his head out from under the covers, a heartbreaking sadness in his lovely honey eyes, tears beading up in his eyes.

Sitting down heavily in the chair, Germany buried his face in his hands hiding away the tears until he could get his mask of indifference back.

"Luddy, I'm sorry…" Italy said softly.

"Me, too."

.~*~.

Months had passed since the disastrous picnic, an event that Germany was not too keen to repeat, and the weather grew cooler with autumn, sending colored leaves spinning to the ground with every gust of wind. Though it took some time, Italy eventually got back on his feet, returning to the best health he could maintain with his illness.

Slowly, Italy's condition began to grow more unstable. He could be fine one moment, singing or cooking or cleaning, then be collapsed the next, with little to no warning. But despite his lover's uncertain condition, Germany found himself, once again, sitting at work while Italy remained home alone.

The German's desk phone rang, and he answered it. "Ja?"

"Nee Luddy!" Italy's cheerful voice came over the line. "I'm going to go visit big brother Romano! I think it's about time I told fratello what's going on, nee?"

"Alright." Germany said. "Remember: if you're driving and you start to feel sick, pull over and call me immediately, okay?"

"Sir yes sir!" Italy said enthusiastically, and then hung up the phone, leaving Germany shaking his head as he replaced the phone on its cradle.

Germany sighed quietly, a barely noticeable smile on his face as he returned to work.

.~*~.

When Germany returned home from work that evening, it was to a dark house. For a moment he wondered if Italy was still at Romano's house. Then he noticed something. Italy's car was parked in front of the house.

"Maybe he's gone to bed?" Germany said to himself as he let himself in. For once, Aster, Blackie, and Berlitz were not tripping over each other to greet him. Berlitz and Aster were nowhere in sight, and old Blackie was cowering by the stairs.

Frowning, Germany went upstairs, getting the distinct feeling that something was… off. He looked in his room. The bed was empty, but there was light spilling out from under the door to the bathroom. Treading quietly, Germany approached the door, hearing muffled sobs and curses from inside. He opened the door slowly, not making a sound, and gasped, shocked at what he saw.

Italy sat on the closed toilet seat, holding a wad of gauze to a wound in his left shoulder, cussing under his breath. Wads of discarded, bloodied gauze littered the floor around Italy's feet, and the first aid kit sat balanced on the edge of the sink. The redhead looked up; shock on his tearstained face when his wide, teary honey eyes met Germany's equally shocked blue ones, and Berlitz and Aster crouched by Italy, looking ready to protect their other master from anymore harm.

"What the hell happened?" Germany asked, voice quiet with shock. "Italy, did you get… _shot?!"_

"He didn't mean it!" Italy cried instantly, tears falling fresh as he spoke. "H-He overreacted, that's all!"

"Who did this to you?!" Germany yelled. He barely realized he was yelling, until Italy shrank away from him.

"I told fratello about my illness!" Italy cried, voice rising into hysterics as he vehemently defended his brother. "He panicked, Luddy, that's all! He didn't mean for it to hit me, I swear that he was just upset, I swear to it!"

Germany let out a big sigh, letting all of his anger out with that breath. It wasn't going to do much good to sit there and yell, he had to help his lover. He let his harsh expression soften, and he knelt beside Italy, forcing himself to give a small smile.

"Let me see." Germany said, gently moving Italy's tiny hands away from the wound.

Luckily, the wound wasn't nearly as dire as it looked. It looked as though the bullet had gone straight through the muscle of Italy's shoulder, and both the entrance wound and the exit wound from the bullet were fairly neat. The bleeding had almost come to a halt, though trails of red still trickled from the wounds.

"It looks like you got off lucky, Vene." Germany said, examining the wound. "A few inches lower and it could have hit something important."

"V-Ve~" Italy said, wincing as Germany took over cleaning the wound and wrapped his shoulder in white bandaging. "It hurt."

"Why didn't you call me?" Germany asked as he stood, and anger was starting to kindle in the pit of his stomach again.

"Um… I don't know?" Italy said, shrinking back slightly.

"You come to me for skinned knees, for bumps and bruises and little cuts, but the one time, the _one time_ you're actually wounded, YOU DON'T SAY A WORD!" Germany yelled, and Italy cowered. "What am I going to do with you?! You don't tell me when you're ill; you don't call me when you get fucking _shot! _ How the hell to you expect me to be able to help you if you won't tell me what's wrong?!"

"Germany, stop!" Italy burst out, dissolving into tears that shook his little body and led to equally distressing sounding coughing. "Es tut mir leid! Mi dispiace! I'm sorry!"

The anger that had flooded Germany's strong muscled body faded, to be replaced by deep concern, and he knelt before Italy again.

"Sh… I'm sorry, Italy. I shouldn't have yelled at you." He apologized and reached in his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping the blood from Italy's face.

"Wahhhh!" Italy cried, throwing himself into Germany's arms and wrapping his good arm around Germany's torso.

"Please relax, Italy. You're going to reopen your wound." Germany said, lifting Italy in to his arms and taking him to their bed. Italy scrunched his way under the covers, laying on his right side to keep his wound from becoming aggravated.

"Are you going to come to sleep too, Luddy?" Italy hiccupped, peering up at Germany with teary eyes.

"Not yet, Italy." Germany said, pulling the covers neatly up to Italy's chin. "I have a few more things I need to do, and then I'll come to bed, okay?"

"Okay." Italy said, yawning hugely, eyelids fluttering closed.

Germany leaned over, kissing away the rest of Italy's tears before standing, lifting Aster on to the bed to keep Italy company, and going into the bathroom. He cleaned up the bloody gauze and put the first aid kit away; tidying up the bathroom, then went back to where Italy was already asleep.

He slipped into bed beside his lover, reaching to Italy and pulling gently on the redhead's shoulder. Italy yielded to the touch even in his sleep, scooting closer and pressing himself against Germany's bigger frame. He buried his face in Italy's sweet smelling hair and fell asleep quickly.

.~*~.

"Germany?" Italy asked, poking at his pasta with a fork. "A-Are you angry with me or something?"

Germany looked up from his book, surprised by the question. "Nein, of course not. Italy, why would I be mad at you?"

With a small smile, Italy glanced up at Germany, the bandages wrapped around his shoulder peeking out from under his tee shirt collar. "Well… All you've been doing lately is scolding me and yelling at me. It must be because Germany is angry with his Italy."

"Oh Italy…" Germany sighed, setting down his book and reaching down to scratch Blackie behind the German Shepard's pointed ears. "I'm not angry with you. I'm… I'm angry with myself."

"Ve?" Italy tilted his head slightly.

"I'm angry with myself because I can't keep you safe from your illness." Germany said. "For as long as I've known you, ever since the Depression, I've tried my hardest to protect you. I think I've done pretty well, too. But this is something I can't keep you safe from, and that infuriates me."

As he spoke, his free hand clenched into a fist until his nails bit into the skin of his palm and his knuckles were white.

"Luddy." Italy said softly, dropping his fork and walking around the table. He took Germany's fist and gently tugged at the fingers until he could wind his fingers into Germany's. "Please don't feel like that…"

"Damn it, I feel like I've failed you, Italien!" Germany said, sighing.

Italy sat on Germany's lap, looking up with his bright honey eyes, brows drawn slightly. "Ve~ You haven't failed me, Luddy. I'm the weak one, isn't that right?" Italy asked with a sweet smile.

"You've been very brave through this, Ita. My little pasta loving surrendering fiancé has been the brave one." Germany said softly, smiling slightly at the Italian who had planted himself on Germany's lap.

Italy laughed sweetly, leaning up and kissing Germany's cheek, making the German blush an interesting shade of red. "Ich liebe dich, Deutschland." The redhead said, smiling innocently as he spoke in his lover's language.

"T-Ti amo troppo, mio fidanzato." Germany stuttered.

Italy gave a laugh and leaned up, kissing Germany on the lips.

Es tut mir leid! = I'm sorry (German)

Mi dispiace! = I'm sorry (Italian)

Ich liebe dich, Deutschland = I love you, Germany (German)

Ti amo troppo, mio fidanzato = I love you too, my fiancé (Italian)


	9. Cold Hands

Italy's shoulder was healing well in the month following the incident. Though the redhead's muscles were still sore and healing, the flesh had scarred over quickly enough and, much to Germany's relief, had resisted infection.

Germany looked up from his desk, eyes automatically glancing over to the couch, where he could just see the fringe of Italy's red hair and the curve of his back as the redhead lay huddled under a blanket, letting out hacking coughs every now and again. Italy had woken up with a fever that morning, and since Germany couldn't stay home with him because of work, the solution was to simply take the redhead to work with him. So now Italy was resting rather fitfully on the surprisingly comfortable couch that Germany kept in his office in case he needed to work late and just decided to spend the night at the office.

"Oi, Italien." Germany said the words softly, just in case the redhead had managed to doze off. But a second later, Italy poked his head out from under the covers.

"Sì?" Italy responded in a voice that sounded rough and scratchy from coughing his throat raw. Germany beckoned with one finger, and Italy scrambled off the couch, keeping the blanket wrapped around his body as he padded over and wrapped his arms around Germany.

Germany felt a small thrill of shock when Italy's fingers touched his bare skin. It felt as though the redhead had been soaking his hands in buckets in ice water, a startling contrast to the fever warm skin of the rest of his body.

"Your hands are so cold." The German observed out loud, and he felt the breath from Italy's sigh against the back of his neck.

"I know, Luddy." Italy tried to give one of his trademark wide, happy smiles, but it just looked tired.

With a gentle tug, Germany pulled the Italian into his lap and took his hands in his own, cupping them and blowing warm air on them like he did when Italy got cold outside, but now Italy resisted, pulling his hands back to himself.

"Won't help." Italy mumbled, yawning and resting his head on Germany's chest, shivering despite the blanket wrapped around him.

"How bad do you feel?" Germany asked. "I can still take you to the doctor if you feel too bad. We can see if we can get you some medicine for your fever."

"No doctor." Italy whispered, his eyes flickering closed.

Germany looked at him. Normally he would have yelled at the Italian for falling asleep on him when he obviously had some important work he needed to be doing, but Italy's face was so pale, save for the pink fever flush adorning his cheeks and the bruise like shadows under his eyes from the lack of sleep. This sight, coupled with the rusty stains under his nose and brighter red on his lips made him look pitiful even to Germany's tough exterior. So Germany was content to let Italy sleep on him, just so long as the redhead was getting the rest he so desperately needed.

Besides, he can do his work one handed.

.~*~.

After a few miserable days, Italy's fever broke, and the redhead was recovering as well as he could. He had met Germany excitedly by the door when the blond had returned home from work, so excited to see him that Germany was convinced that if Italy was a dog, then his tail would have been wagging as fast as Aster's. Now, the two were sitting on the couch together, a fire in the fireplace to combat the frigid air outside. Germany made no protest as Italy threaded his fingers through his, only frowning slightly.

"Why are you so cold?" Germany asked, turning his frown on Italy, though the Italian's wide smile showed that he was not fooled. Germany was not angry with him.

Now that the redhead's skin was not burning from a fever, Germany could feel that all of Italy's skin seemed to be rather chilled, though his hands definitely seemed to be the coldest. It was almost frightening in a way, though Germany would never admit it to his Italy. The redhead's skin was starting to almost remind Germany of a corpse, yet the Italian himself tried to stay as lively as ever.

"Ve~ I just… am." The Italian shrugged as he spoke the words, his smile never faltering in the slightest, not even as Germany let out a thoughtful humming sound. "My skin has been cold for awhile now." Italy said in ways of an explanation.

"Oh." Germany said, turning his gaze to where his three dogs rested as close to the fire as they could get without singing their fur.

"Hasn't Germany noticed?" Italy asked, turning his honey eyes on Germany.

"Honestly, no. I hadn't noticed before a few days ago when you were ill." Germany said, frown deepening only slightly, keeping his blue eyes locked on the gentle rise and fall of breath from Blackie.

"Well… I suppose I have been a bit distant." Italy said softly.

"Yes, you have been." Germany did not say it accusingly, but with a hint of sadness, remembering the years leading up to Italy telling Germany about his illness, when the redhead would sleep on the far side of the bed, trying to keep distant and still keep up his façade. Germany let out a quiet sigh.

"I'm sorry." Italy said.

"It's alright." Germany said automatically.

"Ve~ no it's not." Italy tried to make his voice serious like Germany's but it was all lost as that verbal tic slipped out.

"It is okay, Italien, I understand." Germany said, turning his bright blue eyes on his little redhead lover. "You were scared, I get that."

"Ve." Italy pouted slightly, lower lip poking out slightly, and Germany rolled his eyes.

"Get over it, Italien, there isn't anything you can do about it now."

Italy's eyes brightened slightly, his face losing its little pouting look. "Ve~ Doitsu is right!" he said cheerfully, bouncing slightly on the couch until Germany stilled him with a strong arm around the Italian's waist.

"Sit still." Germany said, sighing, and Italy obeyed.

"If you don't like how cold I am, let me know, and I'll move." Italy said the words even as his pathological need for physical contact and cuddling made him press closer to Germany's warm body.

"Never." Germany promised, pulling Italy closer to him as the redhead smiled sweetly. Italy coughed as he rested against Germany, making the blond sigh again, and then Italy blinked his wide honey eyes at Germany.

"I have a question for you, Luddy." Italy said, shifting slightly so he did not have to crane his neck so badly as he looked up into Germany's face.

"Ask away." Germany said, while his brain screamed. _Please don't ask for pasta again!_

"Can we… before I…" Italy broke off, confusion swimming in his honey eyes as he tried to speak before his thoughts were in order. "Sorry… That… Give me a second."

"Take your time." Germany said, a note of amusement creeping into his voice as Italy struggled to get his thoughts in order.

A solid minute passed in perfect silence, something that Germany was certain had not happened for a long time around Italy. Then the Italian spoke. "Okay." He said.

"Okay." Germany said in response.

"Before I… Before I die… I want us to… be able to get married." The redhead flushed slightly, and Germany was faintly amazed. Years of sleeping naked, showering with Germany, and one novel experience when Italy went drinking with England and both had ended up…. Well anyway, it took _marriage _to make the redhead blush?!

Germany realized that Italy was peeking up at him, those honey orbs wide, and his cheeks still faintly pink as he waited for Germany to answer him.

"I think we can do that." Germany said with a small smile, rubbing Italy's back comfortingly.

"Ve! Are you sure?!" Italy looked more excited then ever, and Germany stifled a sigh. Like he was going to let his Italy die before they got married.

"Of course I'm sure." He said, catching Italy's chin with his finger and lifting it, ducking his head down so their lips met in a brief, chaste kiss. But when they separated, Germany could see a look of sadness and regret on Italy's face.

"I don't think either of our countries would allow it." He said quietly.

Germany felt like smacking himself. Of course not! What would their bosses think if two nation avatars decided to get married? It wasn't like this was a marriage as an alliance, though those had happened in the past. Germany knew that Austria had been married to Hungary and Spain in the past by the wishes of their bosses, and that Poland and Lithuania had been united through marriage once. But this marriage was different, between two nations who wanted to marry each other for love, not gain or benefits, although Germany was fairly certain that Austria and Hungary had been thrilled to be married. But that was a lucky case. There was no way that he and Italy could get married, both because of the nations that they each bore on their shoulders, and because two men being together in any sense other then friendship was almost unheard of, and the rare cases that did come up were horribly abused by society.

"Don't worry." Germany said, his hand stroking Italy's red locks without any conscious thought. "We'll think of something."

.~*~.

"Doitsu? A-Are you asleep yet?" Italy's thin, trembling voice roused Germany out of sleep, and the blond half sat up, propped up on his elbows, sleep weighted eyes focusing on the Italian standing in his doorway, clad in a long sleeved pale nightdress, and his hands were clenched in the fabric in small fists.

"Not anymore." Germany mumbled, squinting slightly. "What do you need, Italien?"

"I had a bad dream…" Italy whimpered, scurrying up to the bed and scooting under the covers, where he found Germany's warm arms waiting for him.

"Hush, Italien." Germany said, drawing the Italian to his chest and kissing the redhead softly. "What did you dream about?"

Italy buried his face into Germany's chest, whimpering slightly, and hot tears falling onto Germany's skin. "I dreamt I was at a f-funeral…"

Germany opened his mouth to speak words of comfort, but Italy cut him off before he could even get one syllable out, and said, "It was _my_ funeral…"

Oh. Well that changed things. Germany felt the sleepiness leave his body instantly, and he sat up, climbing out of bed and pulling on his pants and a tank top. Italy scrambled out of bed after him, the hem of his dressing gown swishing around his ankles, following Germany downstairs.

"Ve~ What are you doing, Germany?" Italy asked, looking like a child in the long white nightdress.

"Sit." Germany said, pointing to the kitchen table and watching as Italy obeyed his order without a word. Once Italy was seated and quiet, Germany turned to the stove, turning on the burner and pouring milk into a saucepan, putting the saucepan over the burner.

It didn't take long before Germany was handing Italy a mug full of warm milk and sitting across the table from him with his own mug, sighing quietly. It was late, he had to be up early in the morning for work, and yet he felt a strange tingle in his stomach that only Italy could make him feel. It took him a moment to think of its name.

That's right. Sharing mugs of steamed milk at three in the morning with the man he loved, to comfort the smaller man after a dream that Germany himself had had before, only a few hours before Germany had to be up and ready for work, yet he did not feel compelled to go back to bed just yet. This feeling in the pit of his stomach…

It was happiness.

.~*~.

It was a lazy weekend morning in bed, a few weeks after Italy's nightmare. The Italian still hadn't been sleeping well, beginning to suffer more nightmares that could wake him in tears in the middle of the night.

With a sleepy sigh, Germany pulled Italy close to him, but a moment later his eyes shot open as Italy flinched in his arms. "Did I hurt you?" he asked incredulously.

"N-No?" Italy said, the word almost a question.

"You don't sound too sure." Germany said dubiously, his brows drawing together in a frown. Italy didn't respond, so Germany said, "Feliciano, if I'm hurting you, you have to tell me."

"It's okay, I'm just sore." Italy said, trying to give Germany a cheerful smile.

"No, it's not." Germany said, his tone firm, propping himself up on one elbow.

"Ve~ It's fine." Italy said, blinking up at Germany with wide eyes, clad in long sleeved flannel pajamas and smiling unconvincingly, but Germany only narrowed his eyes at the little redhead.

With a sigh, Germany lay back down, the room was too cold, but continued to glare at Italy, seeing the redhead shrink beneath his gaze. "Why are you in pain?" Germany asked, trying to make his voice gentle, but it was hard. When Germany was concerned or worried, he usually seemed angry simply because he had no idea how to express the emotions. He was trying to fix it, though.

Italy didn't answer, simply hiding his face in Germany's chest. This irritated Germany a bit. He was so tired of Italy hiding things from him, especially when they were related to something so important.

"Please answer me, Italien. Did something happen?" Germany asked, trying to coax the answer out of the Italian.

"Nothing happened." Italy said in a surprisingly meek voice, still hiding his face.

"Don't lie to me." Germany warned.

When Italy spoke again, his voice was muffled slightly by the covers he was hiding under. "Nothing happened." The redhead insisted. "It's a new symptom." Italy murmured this, so quiet Germany barely heard it.

"Symptom?" Germany asked, confused. "Symptom to what?"

"My illness…" this sentence was spoken even quieter then the last one and Germany mentally slapped himself.

"Oh." Germany said, feeling dumb.

"I'm sorry." Italy whispered, the smile he had still been trying to hold in place finally fading away, to be replaced with a look of sadness that no human or nation should ever have to wear.

"It's alright, Vene. I'll just have to be gentle from now on." Germany said, brushing a gentle hand over Italy's cheek.

"You shouldn't have to." Italy murmured.

"Yes I do, obviously." Germany said.

"No, I mean that you shouldn't _have _to." Italy said, and Germany finally thought he understood.

"Italy, what are you trying to say?" Germany said, his voice dropping past a warning and into the true danger zone. Italy did not seem to realize this, or did not want to acknowledge it. Either way, his voice remained steady.

"Doitsu, I'm going to die. You shouldn't want to be with someone who is dying." Italy said earnestly, trying to make Germany understand.

"I don't care if you're dying, Italien." Germany said, his voice low and honest. "I don't care if you're going to die, because I'm never going to leave you. That's what I promised you when I gave you this ring, right? Per sempre e sempre, right?"

Italy smiled a true smile that broke across his face like rays of sunshine. "Per sempre e sempre." He repeated, stretching to kiss Germany softly. "Grazie, Luddy."

…

…

…

Per sempre e sempre= Forever and ever, or forever and always. (Italian)


	10. Together

**Hello, my wonderful, wonderful readers! Thank you all so much for sticking with this story for so long! Oh, and for my Spamano fans, please go check out my Spamano One-shot called "Would You Kill?" and let me know what you think. Also, if any of you like the Oni games, check out my little sister's HetaOni story. Her username is Sir Gil.**

**Anyway, this is going to be another chapter from Italia's point of view. Also, I'll be introducing my OC, Sicily.**

_He could feel the cold, cold floor beneath him, countered only by the hot blood that soaked through the fabric of his pants and the burning pain deep within him. He could see those hateful red eyes framed by snowy white hair, the scared faces of Seborga and Sicily, his beloved little sister, eyes so wide he could see a ring of white the whole way around them. _

"_Let's see how much you can take to protect your family."_

_Then the pain was renewed as Prussia assaulted his body once again, and Italy cried out in a voice full of pain and fear and even anger that little siblings were forced to bear witness to this, that this was all he could do to protect them. Then the pain took over and all he could do was scream…_

"Italy! Italy! Feliciano Vargas, you wake up this instant!"

Italy's eyes snapped open, and he sat bolt upright, eyes wide, heart pounding so he could hear it in his ears, and Prussia's face faded from his mind's eye, and he realized that Germany was sitting next to him, concern flickering in his eyes and evident in the crease in the brow of his normally almost expressionless face. One of the blonde's large hands had Italy's own hands ensnared while the other worked quickly to wipe the tears away from Italy's cheeks, and it wasn't until he noticed this did Italy realize that he was crying.

"G-Germany!" Italy whimpered, pushing forward and wrapping his arms around Germany's strong body, sobbing quietly as Germany's well muscled arms wrapped around him surprisingly gently.

"You were having a bad dream again, weren't you, Italien?" Germany said, and his voice rumbled in the chest that Italy currently had his cheek pressed to. "Was it the same dream as before? The dreams about—"

Germany's words were halted when Italy placed a slim finger to Germany's lip. "Oh, _please _don't say it, Germany!" Italy said in a voice that was just a bit too high. "Please, just don't say it." Italy looked down, staring very determinedly at his hands as tears pricked the corners of his eyes, blurring the images of his interlocked fingers.

"Do not worry, Italy, I won't say it." Germany said, and Italy looked up to see an almost pitying expression in those beautiful blue eyes. "I just wanted to make sure that you are okay." Germany said.

Italy smiled his brightest smile at Germany. "Ve~ Grazie, Luddy!" Italy pulled back, wiping the remaining tears from his eyes, and then coughed harshly.

Okay, that _hurt._ Italy winced slightly as the cough pulled at his diaphragm, his ribs, his lungs, and tore at his throat on the way out, bringing with it a small gush of hot blood into his mouth, and he wrinkled his nose at the rusty taste. Barely a second later, Germany had pressed a rag into his hand, and Italy clapped the rag to his mouth, leaning forward slightly as more pain inducing coughs sent shards of pain throughout his entire nervous system. Once the agonizing coughing had run its course, Italy sank back into the pillows; his entire body felt about as weak and limp as a freshly boiled piece of spaghetti.

Germany's frown deepened and he leaned forward, pressing a surprisingly cool hand to Italy's forehead, making him blink in surprise. "Germany, what are you doing?" Italy asked in obvious confusion, even as he let out a small sigh. He hadn't realized how warm he was until then. Germany's hand felt nice.

"You got a fever in the night." Germany said, pulling his hand away. "It seems to be going down now, though." The blond nation mused, pulling his hand away. "Now don't forget that you have a meeting with your boss later. If you start to feel bad, just reschedule, okay? No pulling any of your 'I'll-pretend-I'm-fine-until-I-collapse' shit anymore."

Italy pulled back slightly in embarrassment as Germany's voice began to take on its lecturing tone. "Sorry Luddy." Italy said sheepishly, taking a moment to cough into the rag again, eyes squeezed closed against the pain wracking his body.

With a sigh, Germany stood, leaving Italy lying back against the pillows. "I have to go into work for a few hours. I should be back by the time your meeting ends, okay?"

"Okay Germany~" Italy said, kicking the covers off and scrambling out of bed. As soon as he changed elevation, black dots obscured his vision as the room seemed to spin around him, and he barely noticed as he fell to his knees, hands fisted in the covers and dragging them partially off the bed.

A moment later, the spots cleared, the room stopped whirling around him, and Italy leaned his head back on the bed for a moment, letting his breath steady before standing. Luckily, this time the room stayed where it was supposed to, and he made his way downstairs without incident. He didn't tell Germany.

.~*~.

Months passed, and the aches and pains that had occasionally panged Italy's body were becoming more and more frequent. Also, the most unimaginable thing was happening.

Italy was losing his appetite.

Germany and Italy sat at a table in a fairly nice Italian restaurant, opposite each other, and Italy was merely pushing the pasta around his plate, occasionally nibbling off a bite. He could feel already that his clothes were becoming baggier. He knew that he honestly hadn't lost that much weight yet, but on a body like his, a little went a long way in terms of appearance.

"Italy." Germany's voice startled Italy, and he looked up quickly to see Germany was watching him with concerned blue eyes. "Italien, you aren't eating. You haven't eaten a substantial amount in days."

"Ve~ I'm sorry, Luddy, I just haven't really been that hungry lately." Italy said, giving an apologetic smile.

"No excuses, Italien. You need to eat if you want to keep up your strength." Germany almost barked the words, and Italy stuffed a bite of pasta in his mouth as response.

"Okay, Germany." Italy said around the pasta in his mouth, and Germany actually cracked a smile as he leaned across the table and wiped the sauce from Italy's cheeks.

Italy swallowed the pasta and felt it settle like a rock in his stomach.

.~*~.

"Hush, hush…" Germany said later that night, patting Italy's back as he heaved repeatedly into toilet, throwing up his meal and effectively putting to waste the money that Germany had spent on their meal.

"I-I'm sorry, Germany…" Italy whimpered as he tried to catch his breath, sighing in relief as his nausea finally ebbed, leaving him feeling hollow and weak. He leaned back against Germany's reassuring warm weight, panting through his mouth and trying to ignore the pain radiating down his throat.

"Nein, don't apologize. Here, rinse your mouth out." Germany said, handing Italy a glass of water. "I shouldn't have pushed you to eat at dinner earlier when you said that you weren't hungry."

Italy accepted the glass of water and rinsed his mouth out, the water not quite erasing the taste of vomit from his mouth, and spit the water into the toilet. He took another small sip to moisten his throat, the cool liquid soothing the sensitive tissue.

"Luddy, I'm tired…" Italy whispered, feeling far too weak to stand. He smiled gratefully as Germany lifted him up and carried him to bed.

.~*~.

Italy sat on the staircase, three stairs up, weeping, and his hands over his face holding the hot salty tears against his skin. He barely heard the sound of the front door opening and closing over his quiet sobs.

"Italy? What are you doing? Are you alright?" Germany asked, and Italy looked up, startled, noticing for the first time the blood mixed with the tears on his hands, and likely on his face, too.

"G-Germany!" Italy burst into renewed tears, and Germany sat on the step below Italy, concern lighting up his eyes.

"Italy, for God's sake, please just stop crying and tell me what's wrong!" Germany said, the concern in his voice sharpened by a slight edge of irritation.

"T-This is it, Germany!" Italy whimpered tearfully, gesturing to the step he was currently sitting on. This is all the farther I can go… I can't climb the stairs anymore!"

Germany's mouth gaped soundlessly in shock, and Italy buried his face in his hands again to cry some more. He was not sure if he had ever hated himself more then he had in that moment.

He was too weak, and this disease, whatever it was, had taken over his body and his life, claiming control over almost everything in his life. His joints and body hurt constantly, like every muscle was strained and pulled and every joint was at least lightly sprained. His throat and lungs bled, making him cough blood all the time, and too much exertion could make his node bleed for hours. Not to mention the dizzy spells, fainting, and fevers that struck him whenever they pleased. Now he was completely at the mercy of his disease, and he hated it. He knew that no matter what Germany said, he was a burden, always needing to be helped and taken care of.

"Don't worry, Italien." Germany said soothingly, pulling Italy's hands away from his face and using a handkerchief to wipe the blood and tears away. "We'll find a way to make this work, alright? We'll do it together."

Italy sniffled quietly, nodding. "Together."

Together.


	11. World Meeting

"Ve~ Luddy! Luddy, it's almost time to go to the meeting!" Italy called, coughing a bit as he sat perched on the top step of the staircase, dressed in slacks, a dress shirt, and a tie for the World Meeting they would be attending that day. The Italian twisted a handkerchief in his small hands nervously; today he was going to tell the other nations about his deadly illness and he was nervous. Right now only Germany, Romano, probably Spain, Austria, and Hungary knew.

Germany appeared next to Italy, extending a hand to the redhead, who took it and used it as assistance to get shakily to his feet. "We are not going to be late, Italien." Germany said, rolling his eyes a bit as he lifted the redhead into his arms. "Now hold still or I'll drop you down the stairs."

Italy giggled. "Luddy wouldn't do that to his Italy!" he said, wrapping thin arms around Germany's neck in an awkward hug, given their position.

The German frowned slightly. Italy's weight in his arms was almost feather light to him, a testament to the redhead's lack of appetite. Even with the long sleeved shirts that Italy had taken to wearing (probably because he got cold so easily) it was not hard to tell that the redhead had lost weight.

"Are you sure that you want to go to the meeting?" Germany asked. He was not a worrier, but when came to his ill lover, especially knowing that Italy was a bit feverish with a headache made Germany even more unwilling to risk his beloved redhead.

"Ve~ I told you Luddy, I feel fine, other then my headache, but that isn't too bad. Nothing worth skipping the meeting for." Italy said, giving a winning smile as Germany set him on his feet at the bottom of the staircase, wincing slightly as he gathered his feet beneath him.

"Just be careful, okay?" Germany said over his shoulder, going into the kitchen to grab an apple to slice as a snack to eat on the way to the meeting.

"'Kay!" Italy called from the living room.

He sliced the apple and put the slices in a small bowl along with some grapes before returning to where Italy was sitting on the couch, struggling to tie the laces on his shoes. Germany sighed, giving a small smile as he set down the bowl of fruit and knelt down to tie the redhead's shoelaces.

"Are you ready to go?" Germany asked as he finished with the redhead's shoelaces.

"Sì!" Italy bounced to his feet and stumbled. Germany lunged forward at the last second and grabbed the redhead's arm, helping Italy to regain his balance and not letting go until he was absolutely positive that the redhead would not fall.

"Okay, now let's go before you break something." Germany said, trying to pass the words off as humor, but in his mind he was adding '_like you'_ on to the end of the sentence.

"Ve~ Yes sir!" Italy said with a left hand salute, and Germany had to bite back a smile as the two nations headed to the car.

Germany flat out refused to let Italy drive anymore. Not because he was afraid of the redhead's driving (actually, he didn't really mind it), but because he was terrified that Italy would get dizzy or pass out when he was driving and crash. It was for that reason that Germany slid into the driver seat of his car and Italy made himself at home in the passenger seat, reclining the chair back slightly, looking rather pale and exhausted despite his claims of having actually gotten a substantial amount of sleep the night before.

"Go ahead and sleep if you would like." Germany said, seeing the redhead yawning quietly as he pulled out of the driveway. Italy was asleep before they even made it to the end of the street.

With his little companion asleep, Germany turned on the radio, something he rarely got to do because of Italy's near constant chattering when they were in the car. He turned the dial until he found a clear station and sat back contentedly, popping a slice of apple in his mouth.

The drive to where the meeting would be held did not take as long as Germany had initially feared, and when he pulled into a parking spot, his car was one of the first few in the parking lot. Germany got out of the car and stretched before going around to the passenger door and opening it for the Italian who was stirring, blinking up at Germany with sleep muddled honey eyes.

"V-Ve? Are we here?" Italy murmured sleepily, rubbing his eyes as Germany leaned across him to unhook his seatbelt.

"Ja, we're here." Germany said. "Please come on, Italien, it's time to go inside."

"Okay." Italy said, sliding out of the car and taking Germany's hand as they walked across the parking lot, holding a handkerchief to his mouth to muffle his quiet coughing and making sure that no blood remained on his face.

Germany led Italy by the hand as they entered the meeting place, passing the few nations that were already there. England was reading through a notebook, muttering quietly to himself, thick eyebrows furrowed in concentration. France was stalking England, peeking around the corner at the shorter nation. Russia was walking down the hall and giving off an ominous aura, and Germany felt Italy press closer until the silver haired nation was past them. Japan was sitting calmly at the large conference table; hands folded neatly, eyes dull and expressionless as normal. Various other nations were wandering around, trying to kill time waiting for the start of the meeting.

With a quiet sigh, Germany and Italy took their seats at the conference table. Germany pulled out a paperback book to read while Italy sketched quietly in the small sketchpad he had brought with him, humming under his breath as he drew. Within an hour, all the nations had assembled and the meeting had started.

"Do you know when you will tell them?" Germany murmured quietly to Italy during a particular disruption involving stories of England drinking, arguments, and an incident involving France parading around the conference room naked with a cleverly placed rose.

"A-After the break. When they can't ask so many questions." Italy's voice caught nervously, and Germany felt the redhead take his hand under the table.

"Are you okay?" Germany asked, frowning slightly. It seemed to him that Italy looked paler, and every time one of the nations yelled Italy winced like their voices were hurting him. Germany hoped to himself that he was simply imagining it.

"Sì, I'm fine." Italy said quietly as the other nations coaxed France into putting his clothes on again. Germany nodded slightly, left with no choice but to believe the fragile redhead, and stood to get the meeting back on track.

When break time rolled around, Germany had a headache of his own, and little to no progress had been made in progressing on the agenda. Germany sighed in frustration, standing to leave the hall. Italy stood too, very quiet and not saying a word.

That was the first clue. Germany was beginning to figure out that when something was seriously wrong; Italy would go quiet, not speaking at all. With a nervous glance at his lover, Germany's fears were confirmed. Italy was dead white, a look of panic growing in his lovely honey eyes. Germany's stomach clenched.

"Italy?" Germany said softly, touching the redhead's shoulder and making him jump before turning to Germany.

"Germany!" Italy gasped, the look of panic spreading from his eyes. "Germany please help! Something is really wrong!"

No sooner did the words fall from the Italian's lips did those fearful honey eyes seem to glaze over, his face went blank, almost as if he had passed out standing up with is eyes open. Then the tiny body crumpled, hitting the ground and jerking as though someone invisible was electrocuting him. He was having a seizure! Germany's body reacted instantly, without any conscious thought. He shoved the nearby chairs out of the way of the redhead's flailing limbs and dropped to his knees beside the seizing Italian and shoving his wallet between Italy's teeth to keep the redhead from accidentally biting his tongue. Germany moved back slightly to avoid being hit by the spastic limbs, but using his hands to keep Italy's head still, to keep him from striking his head on the ground.

To Germany, Italy's seizure seemed to go on forever, but after about a minute or two, Italy's body finally stilled, eyelids fluttering closed immediately, chest rising and falling fairly evenly.

With a deep shuddering breath, Germany sat back, knees drawn up and his hands moving to clench in his blond hair, eyes closed as the shock wore off and he faced the crushing terror of what had just happened. He could hear the other nations raising questions and words of concern, and he groaned quietly. He would have to explain everything to them. As soon as he had some resemblance of self control back.

A hand on Germany's shoulder made the blonde look up in surprise to see England looking down at him with an expression of concern in his green eyes. "Are you okay, old chap?" the Brit asked.

"I… um… J-Ja…" Germany stuttered, scrambling to his feet and lifting the redhead off the floor, cradling the tiny body in his arms. Now he turned and literally faced the rest of the world.

Mostly everyone was staring in shock and horror. Hungary was crying into Austria's chest, and the aristocrat had his arms around the shaking woman. Italy's little brother, Seborga, was on his knees, hugging a little girl that Germany recognized as Sicily, the youngest of the Italian nation representatives. Romano was seated firmly; arms crossed in an attempt to hide the shaky spasms in his muscles, looking shocked. Germany knew that Romano and Italy shared a link that allowed Romano access to Italy's feelings and even some of his memories, though on a smaller scale, and Germany hadn't even paused to consider what Italy's illness was doing to his big brother. Then America's stunned, not quite as loud as usual voice broke into his thoughts.

"Dude…" America breathed. "What the hell just happened…?"

"Are you blind, you bloody git?!" England snapped at his ex colony. "Obviously Italy is very sick! Isn't that right, Germany?"

Germany nodded, swallowing hard before speaking. "J-Ja… He had actually been planning to tell you after the break…" His voice faltered and died, but Germany was still too upset about what had happened to really care.

"What's wrong with my fratello?" Seborga spoke up, sounding as though he were fighting back tears, and Hungary broke away from Austria to hug the younger nation, her hug also including little Sicily, who didn't speak a word, eyes wide.

"Please Germany, can you tell us what's going on?" England asked, still standing by the taller nation.

"There is no easy way to say this…" Germany said, summoning up the strength needed to get through this without his voice breaking. "Italy has always been beloved. No nation particularly hates him; everyone here seems to have a bit of a soft spot for him. Now what I'm about to tell you, some of the nations here already know, but it's time to tell the rest of the world. During the Second World War, Italy came to me. He told me… He told me that he was dying…"

"What?!"

"That's impossible!"

"Nations can't die! Only the empires died when they fell!"

"No…"

"Italy…"

"Please… Tell us that this is some kind of joke!"

"Hush, the lot of you!" England yelled, silencing the cried of anger and despair. "If you all keep carrying on then how the hell are we suppose to get more information?!" The short British man turned back to Germany. "Go on."

"I know it is hard to believe, but it's true." Germany said, his voice just loud enough to carry through the room. "It's been a few years, seven to be exact, since Italy told me, and I have watched his health plummet over the years. I can tell you as a witness that Italy does not have much time left… His lungs and throat bleed, so he coughs blood constantly, and he can get nosebleeds so easily. Sometimes even the slightest pressure on his body can hurt him, and his strength and appetite are gone. He can get so dizzy he can't stand or he'll black out, and runs dangerous fevers. Two weeks ago I found him in tears because he was too weak to climb the stairs anymore."

This time, when Germany stopped speaking, silence fell over the entire room. Not even the littler micronations were making a sound.

"What about… this?" Finland piped up, fidgeting with his hands and gesturing at Italy. "Has he had seizures before…?"

"No." Germany said, worry settling in his stomach like a rock. "He has never had seizures before this."

Germany shifted Italy's feather weight slightly, holding the Italian closer as the other nations made sounds of sympathy. Some of them began to cry, and Japan stepped forward to stand with his former allies.

"Italy-kun does not look well, Germany-san." Japan said in his ever stoic and emotionless voice. "You should take him to a hospital."

"I can't." Germany said. "From the start, he told me he doesn't want anymore doctors, any more hospitals." Germany coughed slightly, trying to speak around the lump in his throat.

"I am so very sorry, Germany." England said, a shadow falling across his face. "First what happened with your brother, and now this? Neither of you deserve this."

Germany's throat closed tighter, and tears began to blur at his vision. "I-If you'll excuse me, I should take him home."

With that, Germany rushed out of the meeting place, his Italian's limp body cradled protectively in his arms and tears blinding his vision.

.~*~.

Late that night, Germany lay with Italy curled against him. The Italian had woken not long after they had returned home, and after talking on the phone briefly with his brother, the redhead was content to just lay in silence with Germany, neither of them really watching the show on the television that Germany had moved upstairs for Italy to watch when at home alone.

"So you told them, Luddy?" Italy broke the silence, weaving his fingers through Germany's as he spoke.

"Ja, I told them." Germany said, bringing their conjoined hands up and pressing his lips to the back of Italy's hand.

Italy pulled away from Germany slightly and grabbed a few tissues, holding them to his mouth as he coughed painfully, eyes screwed closed. Then he tossed the bloody tissue into the trashcan and nestled against Germany once again.

"Are you tired, Fels?" Germany asked softly, running a hand gently over Italy's cheek. "Go ahead, close your eyes. I'll see you when you wake."

"Ti amo…" Italy whispered softly as he drifted off to sleep.

Germany closed his eyes tight for a moment. He was so afraid that if he fell asleep, then Italy would die in the night without Germany getting to say good bye. So he situated himself to watch over his lover until dawn, whispering three words filled with fear and love and heartbreak.

"Ich liebe dich…"


	12. Heartbeat

Germany opened his eyes with a start. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, and his mind flew to his Italy in a heartbeat. He made to sit up, but a weight on his chest stopped him before he had even really started moving. Germany looked down to see Italy lying curled close to his side, the Italian's head resting on Germany's chest. He was positioned so that Germany could just see the face, the closed honey eyes, pale lips pulled up in a small smile as the Italian lay there looking quite content, looking so peaceful that for a moment Germany was frightened, until he realized that he could hear the redhead's breath rasping in the air. Somehow, Germany could tell just by the redhead's breathing that Italy was awake, just laying with his eyes closed and that small, peaceful smile on his face, that expression that still frightened Germany, for this was the face that you would expect to see on a corpse, not someone who was still very much alive, though he knew that Italy grew weaker and sicker by the day.

"Italy." Germany said, his voice a quiet rumble, and Italy's honey eyes flickered open, gazing up at Germany through long eyelashes. "Italy, what are you doing?" Germany asked, still keeping his voice low.

"I'm listening to Germany's heartbeat." Italy said in a quiet voice, his face never losing that serene little smile that sent chills down Germany's spine. "I like Germany's heartbeat. It's better than mine." With his last sentence, the smile finally fell from Italy's face as the redhead yawned.

"What do you mean?" Germany asked, confused. "Don't all heartbeats sound the same?"

Italy shook his head, shifting slightly so he was lying on his back, moving as though his body weighed a ton and he had no strength. One hand came to rest, feather light, on Germany's cheek, guiding him down to rest his head on Italy's chest. For a moment, Germany thought about resisting, for the redhead looked so delicate and fragile that he was sure that even doing this could break him. Then rationality kicked in, and Germany rested his head gently on the redhead's chest, obeying Italy's whispered order to close his eyes. It took a moment for Germany to adjust to the point where he could actually hear the redhead's heartbeat. The sound was not what he expected. Instead of the steady thumping of a normal heart, the redhead's heartbeat seemed to beat without any order, sometimes beating too fast, sometimes beating so faintly that it sent a shard of fear into Germany's stomach, and every now and again it skipped a beat or two in a frightening rhythm that lacked all the order and normalcy of a normal heart that Germany was sure was needed in a heart for it not to give out from exhaustion.

Germany pulled his head away quickly, his own healthy heart pounding in his chest, his eyes flying up to meet Italy's. The redhead's gaze was somber and sad, lips curved down in an expression that did not fit the redhead's normally happy-go-lucky expressions and smiles.

"Ve~ Are you okay, Germany?" Italy asked, a note of concern lacing through his soft voice.

"_You're _going to ask if _I'm_ okay." Germany asked incredulously, and his voice trembled just a bit.

"Sì…" Italy said softly as Germany forced himself to settle back down next to his lover, and Italy rolled over to him, nestling his head back on Germany's chest, eyes flickering closed again. "Luddy? Why am I so tired?" Italy asked quietly, and then coughed quietly, his small body shaking from the pain that Germany knew was coursing through his body.

"You had a seizure yesterday, Liebe…" Germany said softly, wrapping his arms around Italy's small, pain-wracked frame. "That's not an easy thing for your body to get over. Just get some more rest. You'll start to feel better soon."

Italy let out a quiet sigh, snuggling closer to Germany, shivering even in his long sleeved pajamas, and biting his lip softly. Germany held Italy close to his warm body, watching the redhead's face relax, lower lip coming free of his teeth, as the Italian boy drifted off to sleep once again.

They stayed like this, Italy sleeping, Germany watching him with an almost tender expression on his face, for almost ten minutes, when the sound of the doorbell set the dogs barking. Germany pulled away from Italy, letting out a sigh of relief as the redhead stayed asleep, then made his way downstairs, sending the dogs a glare that shut them right up, and then the three dogs merely skipped around excitedly, tails wagging furiously as Germany answered the door.

"Oh, hello Hungary." Germany said in surprise as he opened the door to reveal the brunette woman standing on the porch with a warm smile on her face.

"Ludwig." Hungary said, reaching up and wrapping Germany in a warm hug. He tensed for a moment, then caved, sighing as he brought his hands up awkwardly hug the woman for a moment before pulling back, clearing his throat.

"What brings you here, Hungary?" he asked, running a hand through his hair awkwardly. He didn't do well with social things like this. Hungary was just too motherly.

The brunette nation smiled and lifted a small wicker basket that sat by her feet. "I made vegetable soup yesterday, and I figured I'd bring you two some. I doubt that Ita is up for cooking anything…" the Hungarian woman's voice trailed off and her eyes shone brightly with tears.

"Oh… um… D-Danke." Germany said, accepting the basket with a slight blush of embarrassment at his own awkwardness. Luckily, when he accepted the food, Hungary gave a rather watery smile. "Um… Would you like to come in?" he offered, opening the door a little wider.

"Thank you, Ludwig." Hungary said, following him inside and taking a seat on the couch as Germany settled in the armchair. "I can only stay for a moment, Roderich is waiting for me."

"Ah." Germany said, standing briefly to take the basket into the kitchen, then returned to the living room to sit in the armchair again. He had forgotten that Hungary preferred to call everyone by their other names, their human names.

"How is Feliciano doing, Ludwig?" Hungary asked, her brow crinkling in concern. "Yesterday, at the meeting…" she broke off, looking away.

Germany himself swallowed hard at the mention of the previous day's meeting. "He's been asleep, mostly." Germany said, intertwining his fingers. "And he's still sort of feverish, but his head seems clear and he says he isn't in pain except for when he coughs."

"Alright." Hungary said, nodding slightly and standing. "Thank you, Ludwig. I have to go before Roderich gets impatient, so I'll see you soon. Oh, and there is also some fresh bread in the basket."

"Danke, Elizaveta." Germany said, and Hungary gave him a smile as she slipped out of the door, closing it softly behind her.

Germany went into the kitchen and went to the basket, his stomach growling at the smells of food wafting from the basket. He pulled out the loaf of still warm bread, setting it aside and pulling out the container of soup, which was also hot, as though Hungary had actually only made it just before she came over. Which, knowing Hungary, she probably did. Below that was a small stack of papers, which Germany pulled out and viewed with confusion. Then his confusion faded to be replaced by a small smile. It was a copy of the notes from the second half of the meeting.

In the end, Germany took the notes from the meeting, a bowl of soup, and a slice of bread up to his room, setting them on his nightstand as he slid under the covers next to Italy, leaning his back against the headboard as he settled. Normally he would never eat in bed, but he didn't want to leave Italy alone for a moment longer then he absolutely had to. So he juggled the bread and soup, which tasted amazing, trying not to spill anything.

"Luddy?" Italy's tired voice reached him as the redhead propped himself up on his elbow, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with the other hand. "What are you eating? It smells good."

"It's Hungary's vegetable soup." Germany explained, setting down his spoon and lowering the bowl so Italy could see. "Do you want a bite?" he asked.

To Germany's surprise, Italy nodded, sitting up shakily and sinking back into the pillows to maintain a vaguely upright position, his face pale. Germany considered handing Italy the bowl and spoon but thought better of it, seeing how shaky the redhead was. Instead, Germany filled the spoon with soup and guided it carefully into Italy's mouth.

"Yum~" Italy said with a smile, eyes closing briefly. "Ve~ Miss Hungary makes the best soups ever!" the redhead's smile was bright and happy, contrasting so sharply with his tired, beaten body that Germany sucked in a sharp breath. "Can I have another bite?"

"Of course." Germany said automatically, and Italy opened his mouth like a baby bird, and Germany couldn't help but to give a small smile at the expression.

This continued for awhile, Germany feeding Italy bites of soup and only taking the occasional bite for himself, knowing it was much more important to get some kind of food into Italy as long as the redhead was willing to eat. As the redhead's body took in the nutrients it needed so desperately, the color began to return to Italy's face, and his movements became more sure and steady.

"How do you feel, Italien?" Germany asked, setting the empty bowl aside. In the end, Italy had eaten a little more than half of the soup before proclaiming that he was full.

"Ve~ I don't feel too bad anymore, Doitsu." Italy said, leaning forward and smiling brightly. The redhead stretched cautiously and ran a hand through his red locks.

"Listen, Italy…" Germany said, his voice dropping slightly. "About yesterday… Did you feel ill before your seizure?"

Italy's eyes widened slightly, a panicked look in his eyes. "No!" he said loudly, startling Germany with the vehement response. "No, Luddy, I swear that that I felt fine before! Well, other then my head hurt and my fever, but you already knew that, so please _please _don't yell at me!"

"Italy!" Germany said, his voice rising so that Italy closed his mouth so quickly that his jaw snapped shut with an audible click. Germany softened his voice as he continued. "It's okay, I believe you. I saw you before; it came on so quickly that you barely had time to…" Germany broke off, looking away, seeing in his mind's eye the way Italy's eyes had filled with fear, unexplainable terror at simply not knowing what was wrong, not sure how to ask for help, but knowing if anyone could help him, it was Germany. And Germany had failed him, once again.

A gentle touch brought Germany back to the present. Italy was looking up at him, concern lighting his honey eyes. "Luddy, please don't think about it. I don't think that anyone could have stopped that from happening."

"Alright." Germany said, sighing softly, running a hand over his blond hair. Both he and Italy jumped as the redhead's cell phone began to ring very loudly.

"Ciao?" Italy pressed the phone to his ear, and Germany picked up the bowl and took it downstairs, moving quickly so that Italy could talk on the phone in peace.

He set the spoon in the sink and turned on the faucet, mind wandering as he rinsed out the bowl. Germany rolled his eyes as Aster gave one surprisingly loud bark; the excitable dog was always doing crazy things like that. He turned off the water and headed upstairs again after retrieving a glass of water for his redhead lover.

"So Italien, I was thinking tha—" Germany's voice died in his throat as he reentered the bedroom. Italy wasn't in bed, and it looked as though the covers had been thrown back in a hurry. And with Italy's condition, that was never a good thing. Germany sat the cup down and reached the bathroom door in a few wide strides.

"Italy, are you—" The bathroom was empty.

"Italy?!"

Within two minutes, Germany had been through every room in the house, his panic increasing with each room that came up empty, until he stopped point blank in the living room, blue eyes wide as he stared out the window. Italy's car was gone.

Germany snatched up his pone and dialed the Italian's number, waiting with bated breath as he paced the living room, one hand holding the phone to his ear and the other with fingers firmly threaded into his hair.

"C-Ciao?" Italy already knew it was him. The stutter in his voice told him that.

"Veneciano Italy! Where the _hell_ are you?!" Germany's voice snapped out and he could almost see the Italian cringe in fear and let out a rush of Italian.

"Germania prega di non essere arrabbiato con me! Mi dispiace, mi dispiace tanto, ma Romano è in difficoltà e ha bisogno di me! Io ti amo e ti prometto che sarò al sicuro, ma per favore non urlare contro di me! Per favore, per favore! E 'nei guai!" Italy's whimpering voice came through the line.

"Italy, shut up a moment." Germany sighed, rubbing his forehead as his tired brain worked on translating the babble of terrified Italian.

"_Germany please don't be angry with me! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry but Romano is in trouble and he needs me! I love you and I promise that I'll be safe, but please don't yell at me! Please, please! He's in trouble!"_ Is what he finally got.

"Listen, Italien, why didn't you just ask?" Germany snapped. "I would have helped you. I would have driven you wherever you needed to go! You know that you shouldn't be driving in your condition. Why won't you trust me?"

Silence from Italy's end. "Mi fido—"

"_English,_ Italy!" Germany sighed. "Or German."

"I trust you, Germany..." Italy said, sounding so pathetic that Germany almost felt bad for him.

"How can I believe you?" Germany asked, hating the insecurity he could hear in his own voice. "Italy, you lie to me about your condition and you refuse to come to me for help whenever you actually need it. How the hell do you expect me to believe you when you say that you trust me?"

The line was silent again. Right when Germany decided that Italy must have hung up the phone, the redhead's voice floated over the line again, sounding hurt and small.

"I'm sorry Germany…" Italy said quietly. "But Romano… Something really bad happened between him and Spain, and he really needs my help… From what he told me, he may need to go to the doctor."

Germany's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Romano and _Spain?!" _he asked. Spain was the most easygoing nation in the world, and to think that he did something to Romano that the older Italian brother needed medical help was astounding.

"Sì." Italy murmured, and then coughs reached Germany's ears. "Luddy, I have to go."

"Italy." Germany said, fear clenching around his heart like a vice. "If you feel sick, pull over right away and don't take any more unnecessary risks. Please just take care of yourself, okay? I trust you for this."

"Thank you, Germany." Italy said. "I love you."

"I love you too." Germany murmured, only to be answered with empty air.

Italy had already hung up.

.~*~.

Germany sat on the edge of the armchair, eyes trained almost unblinkingly on the driveway. Italy had been gone for almost a full twenty four hours, his cell phone turned off and leaving Germany with no way to know if his little lover was alright and his nerves wound so tight that he was amazed that he was not actually bouncing off the walls. Then, in the early hours after a long, sleepless night, Germany had received a call from Spain. The usually cheerful nation had sounded stressed out of his mind, but had alleviated some of Germany's own concern. According to Spain, Romano and Italy had spent the night in a nearby hotel after taking Romano to the doctor to find out that the elder Italian had been diagnosed with a concussion. Romano had finally answered the phone when Spain had called, and told him where to come get them at. Spain said that he was driving Italy home and would make sure that the redhead's car was returned. That was over an hour ago, and Spain should be pulling in at any moment.

Headlights cut through the morning gloom, and Germany shot to his feet, crossing to the front door in a second and standing by the front door as Spain got out of the driver's seat and helping Italy out of the backseat, the Spaniard keeping a firm grip on Italy's thin arm as he led the redhead up to the porch. Germany could only slightly see Romano sitting in the passenger seat, looking determinedly away.

"Italy!" Germany said, pulling the redhead away from Spain. He caught a glimpse of Italy's expression (the poor redhead looked as though he expected to be yelled at) before he crushed the redhead to his chest in an enormous hug, sighing in relief. "You have no idea how worried I've been…" he sighed, and then looked at Spain. "Gracias, Spain."

"De nada, Germany." Spain smiled, sounding relatively cheerful smile despite the hell he and Germany had both been through the night before. "I'll see you around." The Spaniard dropped a kiss onto the top of Italy's head and left, Romano still glaring out the window.

"Germany, I'm so sorry…" Italy whimpered pitifully against Germany's chest, letting the blonde guide him back inside.

"Hush now, Italien… It's fine, I understand." Germany said, sitting back in the armchair and pulling Italy into his lap. He pressed the redhead close to his chest, feeling the tiny arms wrapped around him in response. Their chests were pressed together, and Germany winced slightly at the Italian's uneven heartbeat.

"I still like to listen to your heartbeat…" Italy murmured, coughing painfully.

"You know why?" Germany said softly, still feeling weak with the relief of having his beloved Italian back in his grasp. "Because my heart belongs to you."

Italy smiled. "My heart belongs to you too, if you'll take it. I know it isn't in good condition anymore. Please, don't break it…"

Germany nestled his head into Italy's red hair. "I won't."


	13. Is This The End?

"Ooh, Germany look!"

Germany looked up from the various papers strewn on his desk, glasses slipping down to the end of his nose as he set his pen down. Italy had entered the room unnoticed and was standing by Germany's desk, lovely honey eyes gazing out the window behind Germany. Germany slid his glasses off and set them on the desk, rubbing the crick in his neck as he turned around and looked out the window. Tiny puffs of white were falling softly from the early December sky, covering the ground in a thin layer.

"Ah, it's snowing." Germany said, a faint smile curving the corners of his lips. "It really is winter now."

"Sì!" Italy said with a bright smile and a shiver so faint it seemed to be involuntary. "Ve~ That means that it's going to be Christmas soon!" The excitable redhead gave a little clap and bounced slightly on the soles of his shoes. "Can we go play in the snow, Germany? Can we?"

With a small smile, Germany grabbed Italy's hand and gently pulled the redhead into his lap, being careful so not to break his delicate lover. "Don't be ridiculous, Italy." He said in a stern voice, making the even the redhead's unruly curl droop in disappointment. "We have to wait until the snow gets deeper. Right now there is barely enough to cover the grass, let alone for you to play in."

"I love you Germany!" Italy squealed happily, throwing twig thin arms around Germany's neck and hugging as tight as he could with his waning strength, then tensed and shook through an intense coughing fit, hands gripped tightly in Germany's shirt.

"Ja, ja, I love you too, Italien." Germany said, patting Italy's back gently as the redhead giggled and pulled back, looking pale and thin but still ridiculously pretty as he gazed into Germany's eyes.

"Ve~ Can we go Christmas shopping soon, Luddy?" Italy asked, his honey eyes bright, shifting slightly on Germany's lap.

Germany frowned slightly, brow creasing. "Italy, I don't know if you're fit to out for this." Germany said, resting a hand gently on Italy's slightly fever flushed cheek, and Italy leaned into the touch, eyes closing. "Look at you. You're so weak now, your fever is near constant, and you get cold so easily. I'm already having second thoughts about letting you go out in the snow, and I'm worried that going out to shop for Christmas gifts will be too much." A strange prickling started in the corners of his eyes as he silently added _"I'm afraid that you'll break…"_

Italy's eyes reopened with a look of infinite sadness in their clear honey depths, and the pretty redhead leaned forward, pressing chilled lips to Germany's. "Please don't do this, Germany…" Italy whispered sadly as he pulled back. "Ve~ I know you're trying to protect me, but please… I don't want to live the rest of my life stuck in the house… or in bed… I want to be happy…"

Germany sucked in a sharp breath as Italy's words hit home. He knew that Italy was not as shallow as he appeared, but he never would have thought that the Italian was so sad being confined to the house all the time. The German was beginning to realize that while he had only been trying to protect his delicate lover, he was actually smothering him. To think that this sadness had been hiding in Italy's honey eyes all this time… And yet Germany hadn't seen it.

"Oh, Italy, I'm sorry…" Germany said, his voice a quiet rumble as he hugged the Italian to his chest. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Because you seemed… happier… when you could pretend that there was some way you could protect me." Italy's words were muffled slightly by the fabric of Germany's shirt, and Germany bit his lip, hard.

After a moment, Italy sat up, training his surprised eyes on Germany. "Oh no! Luddy, I didn't mean to make you cry!" Italy said, his voice rising in panic as cold fingers brushed at the wet tracks on Germany's cheeks, making the German blink in surprise. He hadn't realized that he was crying.

"N-Nein, don't worry about it, Italy!" Germany said, pushing Italy from his lap and standing, quickly turning away in an automatic reflex to try to hide his moment of weakness. He brought himself under control and wiped the moist tracks from his cheeks before turning back to Italy, who was on the floor and coughing painfully into a handkerchief. "Ah. I'm sorry. I knocked you over." Germany said quickly, kneeling down in front of the redhead. "Are you okay?"

Italy let Germany lift him up and set him back on his feet. "Ve~ Of course I'm alright." The redhead said with a cheerful smile that was marred by blood.

"Are you sure?" Germany asked, hearing the concern lacing his tone.

The redhead nodded, his smile not slipping in the slightest. "Sì, Luddy, I'm positive. Can we _please _go Christmas shopping? Per favore?" Without missing a beat, Italy's face fell into its infamous Feli Look, and Germany sighed.

"Are you absolutely sure that you're strong enough for this?" Germany said, years of caution showing in his eyes as he gently brushed back Italy's red locks.

"I'll be alright, Luddy." Italy said, giving Germany a hopeful look, neck craned so that he could see up into Germany's eyes.

With a sigh, Germany relented. "Alright. _But—" _Germany said, holding up one finger as Italy gave a little bounce of excitement. "—only if you agree to use a wheelchair or something. That way you won't have to waste energy by walking, and we'll be able to stay out longer. Deal?"

"Ve! Deal!" Italy squealed happily, hugging Germany around the middle. "Grazie, Luddy! Grazie mille!"

Germany smiled in faint amusement. He knew Italy hated using a wheelchair almost as much as he hated war, and always had to struggle to make him use one in the past. The redhead must have been really desperate to get out of the house if he was consenting to the wheelchair so easily. He lifted the giggling tiny nation into his arms and carried him from the room and up the stairs, depositing him on the bed.

Both nations changed quickly into heavier clothing to combat the winter's cold and Germany took Italy back down the steps, setting him gently on his feet as the blond dug in the closet, half in it.

"It's got to be around here somewhere." Germany muttered to himself, digging through the several boxes lining the floor of the front closet. "Aha! There it—Verdammt!" Germany pulled out of the closet quickly as another box fell on his head, and he sat back on his feet, rubbing his head with one hand and gripping two sets of gloves in the other hand.

"Silly Luddy~" Italy giggled, dropping a kiss on the blonde's head and delicately pulling his gloves from Germany's hand, sliding them on carefully.

Germany stood and slid on his own gloves before opening the front door for Italy and keeping a careful eye on the redhead as they made their way through the swirling snowflakes, which were beginning to slow, to the car.

"I should have warmed the car up first." Germany muttered as he slid into the cold vehicle. Italy sat in the passenger seat, shivering so violently from the cold that his teeth clacked together and letting out coughs. Germany eyed the redhead in concern. "Italien, are you sure—"

"Sì!" Italy said loudly, cutting Germany off. "V-Ve~ Let's g-g-go."

Before he started the car, Germany spread over Italy the blanket that he had had the foresight to bring, then turning the car on and hoping that it would warm quickly. Hearing the redhead's teeth chattering was almost painful.

Germany drove one handed, letting his redhead lover grip his other hand. Worry curled nauseatingly in the pit of his stomach as he drove. He was against going out shopping, but Italy was determined, and Germany had never been able to say no to his Italy, even was against his better judgment. He just had to hope that everything would be okay.

.~*~.

"Ve~ Luddy, look!" Italy pointed at the huge Christmas tree taking up residence in the center off the mall, twinkling and shining brightly.

Once they had gotten to the mall and into the warmth, the redhead's shivers had finally slowed as he sat in the wheelchair, blanket over his legs and looking rather content other then when his coughing sent him into pain. The redhead actually looked happier than he had in months, and it was true happiness, going deeper than the surface.

"Ja, it's lovely." Germany said, smiling slightly in relief at the redhead's improving condition. "Now who all are you going to buy presents for?"

"Romano." Italy said instantly. "And Spain and Hungary and Austria and Seborga and Sicily and—" the Italian broke off to cough into his handkerchief "—and you."

"You don't have to get me anything." Germany said instantly, pushing the wheelchair along. "I tell you that every year."

Italy pouted, puffing his cheeks out slightly. "Ve~ but what kind of fiancé would I be if I didn't get you a Christmas present?" he asked, leaning his head back so he could blink his lovely honey eyes at Germany.

Germany rolled his eyes, knowing from experience that there was no way that he could talk Italy down from his plan. He tried and failed every year. "Alright, fine…" he sighed. "Now where do you wanted to start at?"

"Ve~ I was thinking that—Oh! It's Romano and Spain!" Italy leaned forward, waving frantically to them. "Lovi! Antonio!" he called and Spain gave an answering wave as the two headed over.

"Hola, Feli, Ludwig." The cheerful Spaniard said with a smile on his face. "I see that you are out doing your Christmas shopping?"

"Sì!" Italy smiled brightly, reaching out with thin arms to hug his brother who, surprisingly, leaned forward and consented to the hug, his arms wrapping gently around his sick brother.

"How are you, fratello?" Italy asked in a concerned tone as Romano pulled away.

"I'm fine, you idiota…" Romano muttered, looking away and refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

Germany sighed quietly at the elder Italian's prickly attitude. "What a coincidence that we happened to run into each other." He said, trying to make conversation.

"The snow made it feel like Christmas really is right around the corner so we decided to get our shopping done today." Spain explained, smiling and holding up the bags he held in his hand.

"I haven't done any shopping yet." Germany confessed, running a hand over his slicked back hair. "It's just been busy."

"Understandable." Spain's smile was sympathetic now as his gaze shifted from Germany to the fragile Italian sitting in the wheelchair, coughing quietly into his handkerchief as Germany subconsciously rubbed his thin shoulders soothingly.

"Ja." Germany said, sighing softly. "Italy asked if we could go shopping today, and here we are." He said, leaving out the persuasion and tears that were given before their expedition. He looked down as Italy tugged lightly on his coat sleeve.

"Luddy?" the redhead's voice was surprisingly tentative. "I'm hungry. Can we get something to eat?"

"Of course." Germany said, blinking in surprise. With Italy's diminishing apatite, it could be days in between the redhead's meals, and he had actually eaten just the day before, so it was a surprise to hear him say he was hungry. Germany reached for the handles of the wheelchair. "What are you hungry for? We can—"

He broke off mid sentence as an arm knocked his hand away before he could even touch the wheelchair. Romano's arm had shot out impossibly fast to stop Germany's as quickly as it did. Germany looked up in surprise to see Romano take hold of the wheelchair's handles, sending a malignant glare towards Germany.

"I'll take him…" the older Italian muttered, pushing the chair towards the mall's food court before Germany could say anything.

Germany shot a look at Spain, who simply looked amused. "He's been missing his brother." The Spaniard said, sitting on a nearby bench seat and setting down his bags. "Romano's been running me around for hours!" he said with a laugh.

"I know what you mean." Germany said, sitting down next to the Mediterranean nation. "Italy used to have me chasing him everywhere he went."

After Romano and Italy returned, the nations did their shopping (very reluctantly on Romano's part) together. A certain bit of separating happened from time to time so they could buy each other presents without giving it away before Christmas, including a rather awkward moment where Germany and Romano were left waiting outside a store for Spain and Italy. Once everyone had finished shopping, they four separated at the entrance to the mall, and Germany and Italy made their way home.

Once they got home, Germany carried Italy, who had fallen asleep approximately thirty seconds into the ride home, inside and to bed. He tucked the little redhead under the covers and pressed a kiss to soft red hair before heading downstairs to finish his paperwork.

.~*~.

Christmas morning dawned frosty and cold, the sun shining weakly from behind clouds to illuminate the snow on the ground, and Germany was woken quite suddenly in the early morning by Italy's ice cold hands shaking him awake.

"Luddy! Luddy!" the Italian yelled excitedly. "Luddy wake up, it's Christmas!"

Germany groaned and said, "You know the rule, Italien. Are—"

"Ve! The streetlights just went off, Luddy!" the Italian practically yelled in Germany's ear, and he sat up, squinting slightly against the reflection of the sun on the snow.

"Alright." He said, stifling a yawn as he climbed out of bed. Italy followed, scrambling off the bed and prancing around Germany excitedly.

Paying no mind to the Italian's wild antics, Germany shuffled downstairs, letting Italy follow on his own feet. The redhead was so energetic that he fared quite well, and reached the first floor just as Germany made his way through the living room, passing the Christmas tree with presents underneath, and into the kitchen where he froze at the sight of Santa in the kitchen.

The "Santa" turned around, and Germany's breath left him in a _whoosh_ of relief as he recognized Finland grinning at him from underneath the floppy Santa hat. Germany had forgotten that the nations left their wrapped gifts in the meeting hall for Finland to distribute on Christmas Eve (and sometimes Christmas morning if he was running late). The Nordic nation had a key to every nation's house.

"Mein Gott, you startled me!" Germany exclaimed, and Finland let out a small laugh.

"I'm so sorry, Germany." The blonde nation said with a cheerful smile. "I had meant to be out of the way before you woke up."

"Nein, it's alright." Germany said, walking over to the coffee maker and turning it on after filling it with water.

"Santa!" Italy cried, and in the next second Finland was almost knocked to the floor by the Italian's hug.

"Hello, Italy!" Finland laughed, carefully peeling the redhead off of him. "I have to go; I have one more house to stop at and then I'm going home.

"Goodbye, 'Santa'." Germany said, lips curving in a small smile. Finland let out a laugh as he slipped out the back door.

No sooner did the back door closed then a knocking came from the front door. Germany sighed, wondering how on earth his house was so popular today (even if he had sort of known that Finland was going to come by at some point to deliver presents), and headed to the front door, opening it to see none other then Romano, who glared up at Germany with a sullen expression.

"I want to see fratello." Romano cut to the chase quickly, arms crossed and cheeks puffed out slightly.

"Alright." Germany said, thinking that it was better not to argue, and let the southern Italian in to the house. Italy came into the living room, probably curious about who was there, and squealed when he saw Romano.

"Fratello! Merry Christmas!" Italy bounded forward and embraced his brother happily, smiling widely.

"Merry Christmas." Germany heard Romano mumble in reply as he left the brothers in the living room and headed into the kitchen to get his coffee.

Germany sat at the kitchen table with his mug, sipping from it quietly as he read over some documents. He had promised Italy no work on Christmas, but he was just giving the redhead some time alone with his big brother. Germany sighed softly as he skimmed the documents, using one hand to brush his bangs out of his eyes. He could hear the two Italians talking in the living room, though he could not make out the words. Then, suddenly, he heard a sharp gasp from the living room, and his head snapped up instinctively.

"Veneciano? _Fratello!" _Romano's voice cried out, and Germany jumped to his feet at the sound if Italy groaning in pain. He booked it into the living room.

Italy was sitting on the edge of the couch, his entire body curled up on itself, air falling in front of his face and his small hands clenched into fists, knuckles white against his skin, his entire body shivering in minute trembles, every muscle locked tight in trying to contain what Germany could only imagine was excruciating pain. Romano was kneeling in front of him, his green eyes wide and panicked, his tanned hands holding Italy's pale ones.

"Italy!" Germany knelt next to Romano, looking up, trying to see the redhead's face. He could hear the redhead's breathing, sharp gasps and short exhalations, like the redhead was hyperventilating. But something told Germany that this wasn't the case. "Italy, please try to answer! What's wrong?!" Germany demanded, fear lacing his voice.

The Italian did not look up, and for a moment, Germany was reminded forcefully of the moment, years ago, when Italy first told Germany about the disease that was cutting short a life that should have lasted for eternity. Then the redhead spoke, his voice breathy and strained.

"L-Luddy…" he gasped quietly. "I… can't… b-breath!"

Germany snapped into action, yanking a blanket from the back of the couch and wrapping it around Italy. He then lifted the redhead into his arms and rushed him out to the car, ignoring the fact that he had neither shoes nor a coat on, Romano following closely with worry etched clearly in his eyes. Germany set Italy in the backseat, and Romano crawled in the backseat to sit by his brother's head as Germany leapt into the driver's seat and started the car. He pulled out and drove as fast as he dared to the nearest hospital, each of Italy's strained breaths sending a shot of worry through him, afraid that the next breath would not come.

At last they reached the hospital, and Germany literally ran through the doors in a desperate hunt to find someone who could help. Italy was cold in his arms, even with the blanket, and the redhead's breathing had grown shallower.

Italy was unconscious, fighting for air he could not find.

And though he didn't want to think it, the thought rose unbidden to the top of Germany's mind.

_Is this the end?_

**Hello everyone ^^**

**I just wanted to apologize for the poor quality of both this chapter and the previous one. I promise that I'm trying ^^' See you all for the next chapter!**

**Reviews are love ^^**


	14. Will to Live

Germany had never, not once in his life, got down on his knees and prayed. Not for anything. Not when his younger years were filled by war and hatred, not through the Great Depression when his country was so poor that he was struggling to feed himself, not even when Italy was missing and they all knew that Prussia had him and was doing terrible things to him. He was Germany, for Fritz sake. He did not believe much in a higher power. He did not pray.

But here he was, barefoot and on his knees in a hospital chapel, head bowed and hands clasped and praying to any higher power, any god or goddess that could exist, that hopefully did exist, that Italy would survive.

It had been over an hour since Italy had been whisked away from him, and all Germany could see in his mind's eye was the way that Italy had looked as the doctors took him away. Eyes closed, not moving, barely breathing, his skin starting to turn blue and ice cold. He had been dying, Germany was sure of it. Germany was convinced that Italy was dying right there in that moment, and he was down on his knees, praying that his lover, his fiancé, would survive.

Germany opened his eyes, hands still clasped, turning his head to the side slightly. Romano knelt beside him, eyes closed tight and a rosary held tightly in his hands, his lips moving soundlessly. The picture of the perfect religious man. Germany closed his eyes again, ignoring the tears falling down his cheeks.

"_Please save him. He's all I have left and I love him more than anything. I know You probably aren't too fond of me, and I know You aren't too big on the whole we're-both-men thing, but please… If not for me, do it for him. He's beauty and light and good and the world _really_ needs more of that. So please. Please just save him…" _Germany didn't even realize that he was saying the words out loud in a quiet murmur.

"Ludwig? Lovino? I have an update on Feliciano's condition."

.~*~.

Pulmonary edema.

Italy's heart had become ineffective at taking blood to his other organs, and it had caused his veins to back up, putting enormous strain on his heart. The capillaries in his lungs had burst and leaked into his lungs, causing him to become short of breath. Italy had panicked when he realized what was happening, and had a panic attack, furthering his inability to breathe. It was a condition that could be deadly.

When the doctor had finally let Germany and Romano in to see him, Italy was asleep. His thin frame looked even tinier against the white sheets of the hospital bed, and an oxygen mask took over half of his face. A warmed blanket covered him, tucked up under his chin with one arm exposed. In this hand, a clear tube ran down and into the redhead's skin, attached to the IV bag hanging by the bed.

Germany sat in a chair by his fiancé's bedside and took the exposed hand in his own, being careful of the tubes. Italy stirred slightly as Germany's warm hand encompassed his cold one, and then relaxed. His breathing sounded fairly even, a huge contrast the line on the heart monitor, which jumped around erratically to show some of the damage within the fragile redhead's body. The sound of the monitor had been turned off so not to disturb the sleeping nation.

"Italy is a very lucky man." A doctor said as he entered the room, keeping his voice low. "My name is Dr. Smith, and I've been Italy's doctor since he came in almost twelve years ago with symptoms to an impossible disease."

Twelve years ago. It had been nine years since Italy had told Germany about the illness. So Italy had suffered alone for three years.

"So you know that my stupid brother is a nation then." Romano said, startling Germany out of his thoughts. "Alright, well that makes things easier."

The doctor smiled. "You must be Romano. You're Italy's bad mouthing but caring older brother, right?" Dr. Smith ignored Romano's raised eyebrows and turned to Germany. "And you're Germany, the kind of scary but very loving fiancé, right? Italy always spoke a lot about you both."

Germany could not help but give a small smile at the descriptions. That definitely sounded like what Italy would say. "Is he going to be alright? From the pulmonary edema, I mean." Germany asked, holding Italy's hand just a little tighter in his own.

"We aspirated the fluid out of his lungs, and he's on high doses of oxygen from the mask, which he may need for awhile." Dr. Smith said, consulting the chart he held in his hands. "I'm going to start him on some simple vitamins and Coenzyme Q10. These will help boost his heart function and hopefully keep this from happening again."

"Danke." Germany said, a feeling of crushing relief rushing through his body and making him feel weak.

Dr. Smith nodded and left the room, closing the door softly behind him. Romano and Germany looked at each other.

"He's going to be alright." Romano said, eyes wide as he ran a hand through his hair. "Fucking hell, Italy's alive." A small, slightly hysterical sounding laugh forced its way from the older Italian's lips.

"Ja, he is." Germany laughed too, laughed in almost giddy relief. He rested his elbow on the bed and leaned his head in his hand, covering his eyes as a few tears slipped out. He remembered the prayer he had given earlier.

"_Thank You."_

.~*~.

It took a few days for Italy to regain consciousness. The first day that Germany came in for visiting hours and saw Italy's pretty honey eyes, he rushed right in, standing over the bed and kissing the back of Italy's hand.

"Italy…" he said softly, and a small smile appeared behind the oxygen mask.

"Hi Luddy." Italy said softly, his lips still holding a bluish cast despite the oxygen. "Ve~ Did I miss Christmas?"

Germany gave a soft chuckle. "Of course that is your immediate concern." He said. "Yes, you missed Christmas, and you're going to be in here for a little bit before you can come home. I know you said no more hospitals, but—"

"Thank you, Luddy." Italy said, his hand seeking out Germany's and giving it a squeeze. "I was so scared…"

"I was too, Italy." Germany admitted, running a hand over his slicked back hair. "You scared the shit out of Romano and me. Hell, you even made me pray. In a church."

The look of surprise Italy gave him was priceless. Then the redhead was laughing quietly, hand pressed over his heart. "Ve~ Luddy, I would have loved to see that!" he giggled quietly. "But it worked, so thank you."

Germany smiled softly. "Ich liebe dich. And I'll bring the Christmas presents tomorrow so we can open them."

"Ti amo troppo~" Italy said with a bright smile.

"I'm glad to see my favorite patient awake." Came a voice from the door, and Germany turned to see Dr. Smith standing in the doorway, a smile on his face.

"Hi Samuel." Italy said with a smile.

"You're extremely lucky, Italy." Dr. Smith said. "The way your lungs had filled with fluid, and because of the stress placed on your body from the disease, you should have suffocated. You must have an amazing will to live."

Italy's honey eyes caught Germany's and love shone in the honey depths as Italy squeezed Germany's hand.

"Yeah, I do."

.~*~.

The next day, Germany drove to the hospital with the bag of presents in the passenger seat and took them up to Italy's room. Today the redhead was sitting up in bed, and he looked absolutely delighted at the sight of the presents.

"These ones are yours." Germany said as he pushed most of the presents, save for a few, over to Italy.

"This one is from Romano." Italy said as he picked up the largest box, pulling it into his lap and tearing clumsily at the wrapping paper. "Oh, it's a gelato maker!" Italy cried, laughing to the point where he started to cough, his shoulders hunching forward.

"Be careful." Germany said automatically, resting one knee on the bed as he rubbed Italy's back soothingly. He stayed like that, half sitting on the hospital bed after Italy's coughing had ceased.

"Ve~ I-I'm alright, Luddy." Italy said, but Germany heard the redhead's voice catch in pain.

"Hush now, Italy, you know I dislike you lying to me." Germany said, rolling his eyes at Italy's sheepish expression. He took the box from Italy and set it on the ground. "Here, why don't you open the next one?"

Italy picked up the next gift, wrapped in distinctive red and gold wrapping paper. "Hehe, this one is from Spagna~" he said, smiling sweetly as he pulled at the wrapping paper. In the next second he was squeezing a cat plushie to his cheek and squealing in excitement. "Luddy look how cute this is!" the redhead squealed happily, his excitement not hampered at all by the oxygen mask on his face.

"Ja." Germany said in a patronizing tone, but Italy didn't seem to notice.

Italy got a box of chocolates from Belgium, a (very nice) hand knitted blanket from Russia that Italy would probably never use for that reason alone, a framed photo of Echo from America, a classy fedora from England, and a pretty snow globe from Finland. Austria and Hungary had gotten Italy a truly beautiful violin made of pale wood. Funnily enough, Germany had all but forgotten that Italy was a wonderful violin player. Finally, there was only one present left, in a small box.

"This one is from me." Germany said, placing it in Italy's small hands. "You're very hard to shop for, by the way."

Italy's honey eyes glanced up to meet Germany's, and then the redhead looked down at the two presents in Germany's lap. "I want you to open the one from me." Italy said shyly, peeking up through his lashes at Germany.

"We'll do it together, okay?" Germany said. "On three now. One. Two. Three." Both nations tore open their gifts.

What Italy held in his hands was a necklace box, opened with a Teutonic cross, better known now as an iron cross, nestled into it. In Germany's hands was a similar box, this one with a beautiful gold cross, strung on a thin but sturdy looking gold chain. In unison, Germany and Italy looked up at each other, surprise in each of their eyes.

"The cross stands for strength." Germany said to break the silence. "Long before my boss ruined its reputation; the Teutonic cross was a symbol for religion, as well as the symbol for the Teutonic Knights. You've earned it, Italien. You've been so brave; any of my best soldiers would be honored to have even a fraction of your bravery, Liebe." Germany smiled as Italy's eyes welled up with tears of happiness, and the redhead flung his arms around Germany as tightly as he could manage.

"Danke…" Italy whispered into Germany's ear. "Thank you so much… This is the best Christmas present I've ever gotten."

"Same for me." Germany said sincerely, fastening the cross around his neck, and then leaning over to help Italy with the clasp.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

.~*~.

Finally, in mid February, Italy was deemed well enough to return home, his life saved by his "incredible will to live", as Dr. Smith had put it many times. Somehow, the redhead did not seem surprised to see that the house was in a rather messy condition. Germany had been so busy, he hadn't even had time to take down the Christmas decorations. Between managing the dogs, going to work, and spending every minute he could with Italy in the hospital, the house was slowly becoming more and more of a mess. Now that Italy was home again, that would be rectified.

Once they got home, Germany got Italy situated in bed and then turned on the television, lying down with his lover and smiling as the redhead scooted up against him. Italy's lips still held a bluish tint, something that wasn't likely to go away, and he seemed weaker than normal, his body almost limp as he lay with Germany. The redhead had a badly bloodstained hand towel in his hands to combat the stubborn nosebleeds he had been having, as well as the coughing blood.

"You should sleep, Italy." Germany said as Italy rolled to his side, facing Germany. "You've had a long day today."

"Okay, Luddy…" Italy murmured, his voice trailing off into a yawn as his lovely honey eyes flickered closed. "Grazie, Luddy… Ti amo per sempre e sempre…"

"Ich liebe dich auch." Germany said instantly, a faint smile ghosting over his lips. "F**ür immer und ewig.****"** "**Ve~" Italy said sleepily, nuzzling against Germany's chest and sighing as he fell asleep.** **Germany stayed up late that night, simply watching Italy sleep, feeling truly content with the redhead by his side once more. He was frightened of what would happen when Italy's time was up, but he forced himself not to think about it. He simply had to live for the moments like this one, in this rare little moment called happiness.**


	15. What Italy Wants

_**Not really sure about what happened at the end of the last chapter. I tried to fix it, but I couldn't get it to stay not bold, so I apologize for that. I also will be taking longer to post chapters now that school has started and I don't have gobs of spare time on my hands anymore. Seriously, I had maybe 12 hours out of the entire week that I was busy. Anyway, I digress. **_

_**This chapter is a birthday present to myself, as will the next few. I hope you all like it despite the shortness of the chapter.**_

"Let's go see a movie."

"Hm?" Germany looked up from his book.

Italy gave him an adorably impatient look from where he sat curled into the living room's only recliner, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and the light throwing his hollow cheeks into sharp relief. The redheaded nation had, once again, been ill, bedridden for almost a month. He was only now back on his feet, and was already getting impatient being confined to the house.

"Ve~ I said that we should go see a movie, Luddy." Italy said, brushing back a lock of his red hair. "I think that—" the redhead broke off into a coughing fit "—I think that it would be fun to go out and see a movie. What do you think, Doitsu?"

"Well…" Germany hesitated, doing a quick run over in his mind. Italy's temperature was fairly close to normal, and he had the strength to make it down the staircase on his own that day. Overall, it had been one of the Italian's better days. "I don't see why not." Germany decided, setting his book aside and getting to his feet.

Italy gave an excited squeal at his answer and got to his feet carefully, holding onto the chair until he was sure that he had found his balance. He then took Germany's proffered hand and smiled up at him, letting the blanket that had been around his shoulders flutter to the ground. Germany sighed, leaning over and picking the blanket up before folding it and setting it on the back of the couch.

Germany carefully carried the redhead upstairs and leaned against the wall outside the bedroom door as he waited for Italy to change.

Italy had stopped changing his clothes when in the same room as Germany. He wouldn't change his clothes with Germany in the room or shower when Germany was there. The redhead had also begun to wear long sleeved shirts all the time. Germany assumed that this strange behavior was because of how much weight Italy had now lost, although a very small part of him was relieved that Italy didn't crawl in bed naked anymore.

But it was hard, Germany reflected as he listened to Italy's thick coughing through the walls, to be stuck out here when Italy was in there. He was always afraid that something bad would happen to the redhead in the room alone, and that Italy would be unable to call for help.

Not only that, but there was another, much more selfish reason that Germany did not like it. He loved Italy, he really, really did, and it actually hurt a little to think that the redhead was afraid to let Germany see him. Germany had seen the look in the redhead's eyes, the self loathing when he caught his reflection in a mirror or window. To know that Italy saw himself as ugly now was heartbreaking at best. Germany didn't care what Italy's body looked like; that was not why he had fallen in love with him.

"Luddy." Italy said, opening the door, and Germany very nearly jumped. "I'm ready Luddy, but…" Germany followed Italy's honey gaze down to his feet, where his shoelaces were untied.

"Honestly, Italy." Germany sighed good-naturedly as he knelt to tie the sneakers. "I'm going to buy you Velcro shoes one of these days, I swear."

"Ve~" Italy said, letting out a quiet giggle as he leaned against the wall, legs trembling slightly in the effort it took to keep him standing on both feet.

Germany finished with the laces and stood, letting Italy scramble onto his back so that he could take the little redhead downstairs. Even if Italy could manage the stairs that day, Germany wanted Italy to save his strength for as long as possible.

Outside it was warm, the air sweet with the smells of spring, but Germany still had a jacket tied around his waist for Italy in preparation of the permanent chill that the movie theatre seemed to carry, and they climbed into the car, Italy humming some little tune under his breath, his honey eyes bright and happy.

"Look, Italy, they're playing _Casablanca._" Germany said when they pulled into the movie theatre parking lot.

"Oh, I love that movie!" Italy said, bouncing excitedly in his seat, hands fumbling with his seatbelt.

"I know you do." Germany said with a small smile. He had seen the movie with Italy about two dozen times, and practically knew the whole thing by heart. So did Italy, but that never killed the redhead's excitement.

Germany reached over, brushing Italy's hands away and unhooking the redhead's seatbelt. The duo exited the car and headed into the movie theatre, where they quickly paid and sat in the movie theatre, Italy coughing quietly into a handkerchief.

About halfway through the movie, Germany glanced over at Italy and felt a small jolt of shock. Tears left wet tracks on Italy's cheeks that glistened in the light cast from the movie as the redhead cried silently, honey eyes trained intently on the screen. Germany reached over hesitantly and used his thumb to gently wipe the tears away, causing Italy to flinch in surprise.

"Sorry." Germany whispered to avoid annoying the other people around them. "Are you okay, Italien?"

Italy nodded in substitute of spoken response and turned his eyes back to the screen. With a quiet sigh, Germany put his left arm around Italy's shoulders, and the redhead intertwined his fingers with Germany, leaning his head on the blond nation for the duration of the movie.

"Italy, why were you crying?" Germany asked in the car on their way home.

"Because…" Italy said vaguely, looking out the passenger window.

"'Because' is not a valid excuse, Italien." Germany said, sighing. Italy lapsed into silence, and Germany glanced over to see the redhead press a hand to his forehead. "Does your head hurt?" Germany asked.

"Sì, but only a bit." Italy said, pulling his feet up onto the edge of the seat. Germany frowned slightly and pressed his foot a bit more firmly on the accelerator. He knew the signs now.

When Italy had a stomachache, he tended to sort of curl up on himself. Cross his arms, draw up his knees, those sort of things. When his head hurt bad, he applied pressure with his hand to the part that hurt. Germany could glance at Italy and tell that the redhead felt worse than he was letting on.

"Don't worry, Feli, we're almost home." Germany said, returning his focus to the road.

"Mm…" Italy rubbed his eyes hard for a moment and blinked, frowning slightly. He then sighed and leaned his head back against the headrest, eyes closed.

Germany drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he drove until they pulled into the driveway. He turned the car off quickly and looked over at Italy. His beloved seemed to be unconscious, something that happened far too often on car rides. Germany got out of the car and walked over to the passenger side of the car and opened the door, bending and carefully lifting Italy into his arms. He made his way inside, his precious cargo light in his arms as he stepped up the stairs and deposited Italy in bed after sliding off the redhead's sneakers.

As Germany pulled the covers over Italy, the redhead stirred, honey eyes flickering open.

"Hey there, Liebe." Germany said, voice a low, comforting rumble. "You fell asleep on the way home from the movies. How does your head feel now? Do you want me to get you some medicine?"

"No." Italy said sleepily, rubbing at his honey eyes and yawning.

"Alright. Just call for me if you change your mind." Germany said, turning to leave Italy to rest.

"Luddy, wait." Italy said, his voice weak, and Germany turned back to the redhead to see him sitting up determinedly.

"What is it? Are you okay?" Germany asked, brow creasing in concern.

"Ludwig." The use of his full name surprised Germany, as did the serious look on Italy's face that created a crease on the redhead's brow. "Ludwig, sit down. There is something that I need to tell you."

Germany crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the mattress, taking Italy's small, cold hands in his much larger, warmer ones. "What is it Italy, are you alright?" he asked, an automatic feeling of fear in his stomach.

Italy seemed nervous. His feet under the covers were rubbing against one another, and he pulled his hands from Germany's to twist his fingers around themselves. His honey eyes were trained on his knees, chewing on his lower lip.

"Italy? Feliciano?" Germany asked softly, placing a hand over Italy's fidgeting hands to stop them. "What is it?"

"Luddy, I am going to tell you something, and I want you to be open minded, okay?" Italy said hesitantly, tucking his hair behind his ear.

"Alright…" Germany said slowly, brow furrowing in confusion.

Italy took a deep breath and coughed violently for a moment, leaving bloody tracks on his skin. Then he cleared his throat a bit, steeling himself before looking up and meeting Germany's blue eyes with his clear honey ones.

"I want a family, Germany…" Italy said, eyes earnest.

Germany was confused. "You have a family, though. You have Romano and Spain and Hungary and Austria and me."

"No, Germany, you don't understand what I'm saying." Italy said, his eyes earnest with an underlying expression that Germany couldn't understand. "Luddy, I want a child."

Oh.


End file.
